To Dream Or Not To Dream
by FireCracker2000
Summary: The Dream Trilogy, Part 3. No one is where they should be and time is running out. Has Harry got what it takes to save the realities that are crumbling around him, or will the oncoming storm get to him and his friends first?
1. Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Chapter One -

Boulevard Of Broken Dreams

_I walk a lonely road  
The only one that I have ever known  
Don't know where it goes  
But it's home to me and I walk alone  
I walk this empty street  
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams  
Were the city sleeps  
And I'm the only one and I walk alone  
I walk alone, I walk alone_

_My shadow's the only one that walks beside me  
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating  
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me  
'Till then I'll walk alone _

Thinking about it, Hermione had no idea what just happened.

She remembered the Ministry, and the whirlwind of action that had ended so suddenly. There had been a lot of aching limbs, and a lot of worry as someone had been taken home. Someone who wouldn't wake up.

Draco. Draco Malfoy.

That's right, it was Draco who had been hurt the most. But that seemed strange; why care about Draco Malfoy?

Hmm.

She remembered rummaging through the potion's cupboard, and the feeling of elation at finding something in particular, a special root for a special spell. A spell so special Dumbledore himself had intervened. A spell with Dumbledore that, come to think of it, felt quite familiar.

There had been another girl, with black hair and green eyes. Together they had picked flowers and sat by the Slytherin boy's bed. Yes, she definitely remembered sitting by the bed, and Harry - Harry had been there too. Just waiting.

A lot of worry. For a boy she didn't like much, didn't like at all. In fact, for as long as she could remember she had positively loathed the boy. But now there were other memories, memories of bravery, ingenuity, courage. And a kiss.

A kiss?

Surely not. But wait, in the corridor, outside a classroom, _the _classroom. He had said goodbye; he was going home.

"Hermione?"

She screwed up her eyes against the light. It wasn't all that bright but it felt blinding. Her brain felt like it was pounding against her skull in a valiant attempt to escape. If she opened her eyes surely the pain would only get worse.

"Hermione?" This time the person who belonged to the voice gave her shoulder a little shake. They were definitely concerned. "Hermione, please wake up."

With tremendous effort, Hermione Granger opened her eyes and looked at her surroundings. She was lying on the floor of the school library, her bag splayed out next to her and several books scattered about. Lavender Brown was crouched beside her, eyes wide with anxiety.

"Hermione, are you okay?"

Slowly, Hermione pushed her hands to the floor and moved into a sitting position. She blinked a couple of times then looked at the other girl.

"What happened?"

Lavender bit her lip and rocked back on her heals. "We were just doing some research for that Charms essay on summoning spells, and you came over all funny. You said you felt dizzy and collapsed." She smiled and tried to look reassuring. "It was only for a few minutes though."

Hermione frowned, her head was still thumping. She did not remember the library, only the classroom, which…

Hang on. That wasn't just any old classroom. There were more memories coming back to her now. She screwed up her forehead in the effort of concentration. That had been a History of Magic classroom, the old one they never used any more. The one with the big window, the one where…

The one where Harry and Draco had crossed over.

"Oh no," she couldn't help but breathe as she looked at Lavender in horror. She couldn't have crossed over? How could that be possible? Draco and Harry's sister Sarah, they had been the ones holding the parchment, they should have been pulled through, not her!

"What?" asked Lavender, taking hold of Hermione's shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"Where's Harry?" demanded Hermione, struggling to her feet and sweeping all the books back into her bag.

"Harry Potter?" Lavender seemed uncertain about this request.

"Yes of course Harry Potter," snapped the brunet girl a little harsher than she meant to. Her only hope was that Harry had crossed over too; she had to find him right away.

"Erm, well he's the other side of the library, you know that little bit tucked away by the Astronomy stuff." Lavender looked quite upset. Hermione wasn't sure what to say, but she didn't really have time to dwell on it.

"Thanks Lavender, I'll see you later yeah?"

But she didn't hang about for an answer, instead moving speedily over to the desk the other girl had described. She took a moment to notice for some reason she was wearing heeled boots, and it almost cost her her balance once again. She managed to steady herself though and turn the corner into the little alcove.

There sat at the desk covered in books and paper was Harry Potter. Beside him were Parvati Patil and Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw boy Hermione had once had to do a Muggle Studies project with. They'd got on well at the time, but now those rich brown eyes were looking at her with immense dislike and distrust. In fact, all three of the students were looking daggers at the new arrival. This is not good, thought Hermione worriedly.

"What do you want Granger?" said Harry coldly. Hermione couldn't believe her ears.

"What did you just call me?" she stammered. This was definitely not good.

"Look, just beat it alright?" said Terry slightly more kindly. "We're really not in the mood." Hermione grasped the strap of her bag and stood her ground.

"Harry, I really would like a quick word," she carried on. She wasn't exactly sure why, after all this was clearly not her Harry. But she felt the need for a familiar face, so would carry on until she knew for sure. Then she would try and find Ron, but she was already beginning to feel she would be disappointed on that front too. After all, if he wasn't sitting with Harry, where was he?

"Whatever you want to say to me just say it, fast," growled Harry. "Unless you're finally willing to confess what Draco did to Sarah I'm pretty sure I'm not going to care."

Something cold ran down the length of Hermione's spine. Her suspicions of where she was were starting to be confirmed, but first she wanted proof.

"What…what Draco did…?" she began, but then Parvati finally piped up.

"Yeah, your boyfriend _kidnapped _Harry's sister and his parents are worried _sick!_ So how about you stop being such an _idiot _and either leave or _help us out!"_

Momentarily Hermione was totally lost for words. She had been right, she had somehow travelled to the world Harry had found himself in last November, that Draco and Sarah had come from last Sunday. But that wasn't actually her first question.

"My…my boyfriend?"

"Oh for God's sake Granger I can't be bothered to go over the same old crap again," snapped Harry, flicking open a book, pretending to be interested in it. "Just piss off before I smack you one."

This pulled Hermione right out of any kind of befuddled state she'd found herself in.

"_Smack me one?"_ she shrieked, throwing her bag to the floor and slamming her hands down onto the desk. All three of the students jumped back in surprise. It was a good job they were at the other end of the library and couldn't be heard as easily. "My God Harry Potter what the Hell has happened to you? Hit a girl? And what the Hell are you sitting here doing homework for? Why aren't you moving Heaven and Earth to find your sister?"

Harry looked furious and jumped to his feet to face her. "And what am I supposed to do? It's being handled by people who know what they're doing-"

"The Harry I know," interrupted Hermione, pointing a shaking finger at the boy's face. "Would never leave anything so important for somebody else to sort out."

The three round the desk went very still.

"What do you mean 'the Harry you know'," asked Harry slowly.

Hermione paused for a moment, then took her hand off the desk and folded her arms. "Last November," she began, "you were replaced by another Harry, who travelled to Germany to rescue your sister with Draco Malfoy and defeat You-Know-Who."

Parvati's eyes widened, Harry took a breath and clenched his jaw, and Terry sat back in surprise. "What?" said the Ravenclaw boy.

It was Harry's turn to lean on the desk as he addressed Hermione. "We don't talk about it," he said forcefully, but Hermione wasn't finished.

"What were you doing last Sunday when your sister disappeared?"

The three others looked at each other. "What does that have to do-" Parvati started, but Hermione carried on with a wave of her hand.

"Come one, where were you, what happened?"

Harry frowned. "All four of us were in that classroom, there was a storm…"

"You two were screaming at each other," added Terry quietly.

Hermione actually smiled; it always made her happy when pieces of the puzzle came together. "Was this classroom anywhere near the old History of Magic one?"

Harry thought it over. "Yeah," he said slowly. "It's right above it."

"Right," said Hermione. They all looked confused as to why she was still smiling. "That classroom is right beside a Dimensional Hotspot, a doorway between parallel universes. When Harry came through last November it was because he lost his temper in that classroom, the classroom where Draco and Sarah were when you lost your temper and opened the portal."

She leant on the table again and looked directly into this new Harry's eyes. "Draco didn't kidnap your sister, _you _sent them both to the other reality. And when I just tried to send them home, I somehow ended up here instead. So what are we going to do about it?"

Parvati and Terry jumped to their feet as Harry bolted over to Hermione and grabbed her shoulders.

"You know where Sarah is, is she safe?" he cried.

"What do you mean you ended up here instead?" demanded Parvati, tears in her eyes, hands wringing by her stomach.

"Would somebody _please _tell me what's going on!" yelled Terry.

"OUT!"

The four students spun around in surprise. Madam Pince was standing with a look of barely controlled rage. "How _dare_ you behave like this in _my_ library. Not another word – out!" She flung her arm in the direction of the doorway and glared. Slowly the students picked up their belongings and walked out the exit, acutely aware that every other single pair of eyes were trained on them as they went.

As the door swung shut they all tried to speak but Terry got there first. "What the Hell is going on?" Hermione assumed the question was directed at Harry, but when she looked the Ravenclaw boy was looking at her. Feeling nervous she put her shoulders back and lifted her chin in an attempt to look more confident.

"There's a Dimensional Portal outside the old History of Magic classroom, the one you were near when Harry lost his temper. My Harry travelled through it last November into this world, and that's when he, Parvati and the other me went to Germany." She really hoped she was getting her facts right, Harry never talked much about it except in the last week.

She was reassured by Parvati though, who nodded and said "and Seamus."

Hermione carried on. "He was able to travel back because Ron and I pulled him back with a charmed letter we managed to send through after him. But then last week this Harry lost his temper near the already weakened Hotspot and sent Draco and Sarah into my reality. We tried to send them back just now, but somehow I ended here instead."

"Why didn't you try and send them earlier?" asked Harry darkly. Hermione scowled at him. This boy was horrid, a sick caricature of the friend she knew and loved. She didn't care if he was worried about his sister, he was just mean.

"We were a little busy," she said coldly. That was putting it mildly.

"No, sorry," said Terry throwing his hands up. "That doesn't make any sense – what do you mean another world? Another reality? That's science fiction!"

"You go to a magic school," said Hermione dryly.

"Oh for fu-" But Terry didn't finish his sentence. Harry interrupted.

"Terry – she...I'm afraid she's telling the truth," he said heavily. He looked over at Parvati, who rubbed his shoulder. "It wasn't me who defeated You-Know-Who last year, it was a different Harry - her Harry." He turned to face her once more. "And now you're telling me that's where my sister is?"

"That's where she went," corrected Hermione. "Her and Draco. But we just tried to send them back and it went wrong. I ended up here but obviously nobody else has, so they could still be there or really," she paused and took a breath. "They could be anywhere."

The two Gryffindors and Ravenclaw looked very ill indeed. "We need to tell my parents," said Harry, and started walking hurriedly down the corridor. The other three followed, and Hermione felt a strong hand grip her arm. It was Parvati.

"Whose 'we'" she asked. Hermione shook her head, unsure what the other girl meant. "You said 'we' tried to send them back, I was just wondering who you meant?" Hermione was slightly confused as to why she would find that important, but she answered anyway.

"It was just me, Harry and Ron," she replied. Parvati seemed sad and disappointed by this, and carried on walking ahead. Harry however snapped his head back round.

"Ron Weasley?" he enquired, adjusting his satchel around his neck. She nodded and remembered something else from the last few days.

"He's dead in this world, isn't he?"

It was Harry's turn to look sad. "For years now."

Hermione sighed. So she was all on her own then.

xxx

Ron Weasley did not feel very well at all. His head was throbbing in pain and his mouth tasted of blood. Bright light was beaming onto his closed eyelids begging them not to open, and his left elbow stung.

"Ron?"

Someone unfamiliar was calling his name. Ron almost didn't care, he didn't want to have to face any more trouble after what had just happened at the Ministry. He'd rather just go back to sleep.

"C'mon Ron buddy - wake up!" Unfortunately the person trying to rouse him was rather persistent and accompanied this last demand with a heart-felt slap on the face.

"Ow!" cried Ron indignantly, snapping his eyes open. "What the bloody Hell do you think you're playing at?" He sat up rather quicker than he should have, making his head swim even more. When his vision returned he could see two people standing over him, looking down in concern. He had no idea who either of them were.

Panicked, he looked at where he was sitting and realised with even more dread he didn't know where that was either. It was like a large concrete rectangle with coloured lines painted on it and a chain metal fence running round the perimeter. There were lots of people standing around, a lot of them looking at Ron. To the left was a field with more people on, running around and generally enjoying the sunshine, and to the right a road with Muggle cars on. Ron did his best to steady his breathing.

In front of him the two boys were still standing, their hands on their knees looking at him with genuine worry lining their facial features. One of them, a lad with very blond hair, tanned skin and his t-shirt tucked into the back of his shorts, was holding an orange ball, slightly bigger than a quaffle. The other boy was black with braided hair that ended at the nape of his neck and a faded t-shirt that said 'Bon Jovi'. He reached out and took Ron's shoulder.

"Hey Ron, you feeling okay?" It wasn't this boy who had spoken before, or presumably slapped him across the face. Ron honestly didn't know how to respond to that question. He shakily got to his feet and the people who had been staring slowly went back to throwing their own orange balls at each other, occasionally bouncing them and aiming them into a hoop suspended a few feet off the ground.

Ron shook his head and tried to ease the terrible head ache.

"What's going on?" he said blearily, rubbing his eyes and trying to grasp what was really happening around him.

"We were playing and you collapsed," said the black boy simply.

"You totally smashed your head," added the other boy helpfully, spinning the ball between his hands.

"We might need to get you to the hospital," carried on the black boy, ignoring his friend. Ron ignored them both. He had not been playing any game, that was for sure.

He had been at school and…and they were doing a spell. Slowly the details came back to him. They had being trying to help Draco, but he wasn't really Draco. He was a different Draco. That did and didn't make sense to him at the same time, but then he remembered a girl as well. She knew Harry somehow.

"Parallel Universe!" he suddenly said to the two boys looking at him, and this caused them to look even more confused than they had been before. "God damn Draco bloody Malfoy!" he ranted and started to pace. "We tried to send them back – to their world – they must have sent me..." He trailed off. Did that make sense?

"Definitely time for the ER," said the black boy, much calmer than his face looked. Ron shook his head, the pain slightly better.

"I don't want to go to a hospital," he insisted. "I need to talk to someone…anyone." He had to find Harry and Hermione. At this rate, he'd be happy to see Draco Malfoy again. If only to hit him.

"Hey, no worries, no worries," said the blond boy, still spinning the ball between his hands. "No hospital - you can talk to us about anything." The black boy didn't look convinced but he didn't say anything.

Ron pressed his fingers into his temples. I don't even know who you are, he thought pitifully. But the other boy solved his dilemma for him.

"Hey Chris," he said quietly, "how bout you grab your keys and we run him home?"

The blond boy, Chris apparently, smiled in relief and threw the ball into the black boy's waiting hands. "Sure thing - give me two seconds." He ran off to where a pile of belongings were and scooped them all up. Ron looked down at himself for the first time and saw he was wearing knee length shorts, a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and a kind of hat with a peak at the back of his head. He yanked it off and saw a tick emblazoned on what would actually be the front. The black boy laughed.

"Woah, don't take that off, you're brains might fall out," he joked, and stuffed the hat back on Ron's head, backwards like it had been before. It hurt but Ron grimaced and said nothing. He was starting to notice something strange about the way these boys were talking. What the Hell was going on – where was he?

Chris ran back over and threw a jumper with a hood on to each of his companions. "Let's make a move!" he said in an over excited voice and smacked Ron on the back in what he obviously thought was a friendly gesture. Ron gritted his teeth again.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked. "I – I don't think I should move." He remembered how the letter he and Hermione had sent to Harry in the Parallel Universe before had arrive at the point where he'd crossed over. The black boy looked at Chris.

"Home," he said simply.

Ron looked around again. "But...I don't live anywhere near here?"

The black boy blinked. "Definitely the ER," he said simply. The other boy though, Chris, smacked him on the back the way he had done to Ron.

"Nah man, let's just get him home to Molly, she'll fix him up!"

Ron considered them both. It didn't seem they intended him any harm, and right now he'd give anything to see a friendly face. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "Okay."

They walked over to an old but pretty cool looking car, it was a burgundy colour that would have clashed horribly with Ron's hair if it hadn't have been hidden under the hat. Ron got in the front by the driver's seat; it took him a moment to realise it was the wrong way round.

"Why's your car backwards?" he asked before thinking. The black boy gave him another strange look as he slid into the back, but Chris pretended to look outraged.

"Hey, no bad mouthing my baby! Rule number one _me compadre."_

Ron shook this off and pulled his seat belt on, choosing to hold onto the jumper he'd been given rather than wear it. It was even hotter than he remembered it being over the last few days, but he still heard the old familiar rumble of thunder in the background.

It didn't take long to get where they were going. Chris stopped the car on the pavement by what could only be described as an enormous house on a clean and tidy road filled with houses of the exactly the same size. Ron didn't move.

"This…this is my house?" he stammered. It was just so…well, _posh._ The black boy leaned forward to look at Ron.

"Just how hard did you hit your head?"

"And why the Hell are you talking like James Bond?" asked the other boy as he grabbed the keys from the ignition and jumped out the car.

Ron nervously licked his lips, his tongue still sore from when he bit it before. He wanted to ask who James Bond was but he didn't trust himself to open his mouth. He suddenly didn't know if he wanted to go inside, who knew what he might find? But the other two were already striding ahead so Ron had no choice but to follow.

Chris bowled through the front door as if it were his own house, and the black boy did the same. Ron crept in afterwards, the least confident of the three. He stepped into the spacious hallway, and was relieved to be greeted with some of that familiar Weasley clutter; ornaments, welly boots, newspapers. There was something that didn't feel right though.

He was soon distracted by the sight of his sister running down the staircase. Her red hair streamed out behind her, but what caught Ron's attention first was the tartan skirt that barely reached her thighs, followed by the white knee length socks, blouse with one too many buttons undone, far too much make up and mobile phone attached to her ear.

"Ginny what on Earth are you wearing?" he spluttered and his two companions turned to look at him. Ginny stopped and raised an eyebrow.

"It's called school uniform. And what's with the voice?"

She carried on to the front door, phone still at her ear. She swung round just as she pulled it open and addressed her brother again.

"And nobody calls me Ginny. Freak." She waltzed out, slamming the door. Ron turned mutely to look at the other two boys, and Chris was shaking his head.

"Dude," he said, reproachfully. "Nobody calls her Ginny."

"Christopher, Alexander James?" called a voice from somewhere in the house. Chris broke into a smile and nudged the other boy in the ribs before running off in the direction of the voice. The black boy, Alexander James, rolled his eyes and followed. Ron did the same.

They entered the kitchen where Molly Weasley, Ron's mum, was baking about a million cakes, all covered in different icing with different flavours and fillings. At present she seemed to be stirring an impossibly chocolaty mixture, occasionally throwing in handfuls of white chocolate chips. "Hello boys," she said cheerfully, pushing hair out of her face and wiping even more cake mixture about her person. "These are for Ginevra's class something-or-other," she shrugged her shoulders causing a little cloud of flour to rise of them. "There's more than enough if you'd like a few."

It would probably have been a very comforting sight to Ron, but there was again just something wrong with the scene that was making him nervous.

"Thanks Molly you're the best," chirped Chris and grabbed the nearest blue cupcake. "A.J. and I just rescued Ron from a fight with the basket ball court," he said through a mouthful of cake.

A.J. rolled his eyes again as he reached for a cake himself. "Ron collapsed is all," he assured Mrs Weasley, who had suddenly looked very alarmed. "He said he didn't want to go to hospital so we thought the best option was to bring him home. Great cake by the way."

"Mm, great cake," agreed Chris, half way through his second.

Ron, unusually, had lost his appetite. He had realised what was bothering him. There was no magic evident in this room whatsoever. No charms doing the washing up, the mirror was stubbornly reflecting exactly what was in front of it and the clock just had twelve boring numbers on it. And to make matters worse his mum was talking in the strange way his sister had too. She bustled over to him.

"Oh let me take a look at that elbow," she said concerned, but Ron backed away.

"I'm fine mum," he lied, not wanted to be fussed over.

"Nonsense dear," she said firmly. "I can see where the blood ran down your arm, just let me-"

"Mum - I said I'm fine!" he snapped. He didn't mean to yell at her, but he was starting to lose what little grasp he had on reality. Nothing he was seeing was giving him any answers; in fact it was only giving him more questions. Molly stopped and put her hands on her hips.

"Why are you talking like that Ron?" she asked, not exactly cross but no longer warm either.

Ron finally lost his temper and flung his arms out in exasperation, almost hitting a stack of mini bakewells. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?" he cried. "I'm talking normally, it's everyone else who's gone mental!"

A.J. frowned. "He sounds…British."

Ron rubbed his forehead again. "That's because I AM British! Why the Hell wouldn't I be?"

"Because this is Cleveland, Ohio," said A.J. as all three of them shared a look of extreme concern, the cakes and the blood forgotten.

"Ohio?" was all Ron could manage.

"In America," said Molly Weasley carefully.

Ron thought he was going to explode. "Why the _Hell_ am I in America, and why the Hell are we living like _Muggles?!" _Some detached part of his brain was working on an intricate plan to dismember Draco Malfoy.

Molly took a visible breath and looked shocked at her son. "Would you excuse us boys," she said to A.J. and Chris, who merely looked confused. They nodded and headed elsewhere, Ron wasn't sure having never been in this house before.

"Where did you hear that word?" hissed his mother once they were gone. She was half angry, half scared. Now it was Ron's turn to be confused.

"What - Muggle? It's…it's just a word, why wouldn't I know it?"

"You've never known it until today, so you must have heard it somewhere," Molly cried, sitting down at the table with a thump. She was wringing her hands and looked very distressed. Ron frowned. He was making things worse, but he didn't know how else to react. He desperately wanted Harry and Hermione to walk through the door and just fix everything.

"I'm really sorry mum I...I didn't mean to upset you," he mumbled.

"Stop talking like that," she snapped, rubbing her hands on a tea towel, trying to get most of the icing off.

"Well how am I supposed to talk," he snapped back.

"Like normal!" she cried, finally making eye contact with her youngest son. He rubbed his temple, wishing the head ache would ease up.

"Right - here's what happened. I was at Hogwarts and Harry activated a Dimensional Hotspot which was supposed to send Draco and Sarah home, but I'm thinking it maybe didn't work."

Molly had frozen, staring at her son. "What did you say?"

Ron wasn't very good at explaining things sometimes, but he carried on anyway. "I'm from another reality, and now I need to get home, like, with a spell or something. Why isn't there any magic in the house?"

"Shh!" said Molly, instantly jumping up and closing the window. "Don't say that word."

"It's just a w-" Ron began to say for the second time but she cut him off.

"It is _not _just a word Ron Weasley!" she yelled sitting back down a wagging her finger at him. "There is none of it in this house and there never will be, you shouldn't even know about it!"

Ron swallowed, trying to get his thoughts in order. "But why, why not? Please, I'm not having you on - if you know about…about the 'M' word, then can you accept it's a possibility I'm not from this reality." He realised how stupid that sounded but it was the truth.

Molly drummed her fingers on the table. "Yes," she finally concluded. "It doesn't sound completely out of the realm of possibility, and it might explain why you're behaving like you are. That doesn't mean I entirely believe you," she added sternly and carried drumming her fingers thoughtfully. There was a pause.

"The only reason I'm entertaining this is because the one and only..._strange..._object in this house is a sneak-a-scope and it hasn't gone off."

Ron folded his arms and wasn't sure where to look. "Oh," was all he could say. There was another pause.

"Why are we living in America, like Muggles?" he started. She gave him a sharp look and he decided not to use that word again, but she after a moment she answered without comment.

"When You-Know-Who killed the Potters back in '81 we knew it wouldn't be safe, so we left the county shortly after Ginevra was born and stopped using…you know." She rested her chin on her hands and pondered. "It's been a long time."

"Dead?" he breathed. Harry's dead? The thought ran through his head numbly. Well that was one person who could possibly help gone.

"So, how am I gonna get home if you haven't got any…any stuff?"

"'Home?'" she said, a little shrilly. "I don't know Ron, I don't even know what that means," she answered, putting her head in her hands.

"Well, isn't there anyone else I can ask?" he cried, starting to get a little desperate. Maybe Hermione was still a witch, but how would he find her all the way over in England. Molly smacked her hands back down on the table.

"Absolutely not," she said, fire blazing in her eyes. "You cannot endanger this family Ronald Weasley, is that understood?"

"But, how am I going to get home?" he yelled back. This wasn't like his mum to be so unsupportive, so unwilling to do the right thing. She rubbed her forehead, transferring yet more icing from her fingers to her face. This was probably the last thing she'd expected to be dealing with on a Thursday afternoon.

"I'm sorry sweetheart," she said, genuinely sorry. "We've worked so hard to shelter this family from all the trouble that's happening in England, I - I guess it's a little overwhelming to have it brought back up again."

"But can't you see," Ron pressed on, taking advantage of the slight change in attitude. "This isn't where I belong - I have to get home." He thought a moment. "And," he continued, "and your Ron, the one who does belong here, well we need to get him back. I have no idea where he's gone, but if I get home he'll definitely come back - that's what happened to Harry."

"Who's Harry?" she asked curiously. Ron frowned.

"Harry Potter," he answered. His mum looked ill.

"But – he died when he was a baby."

"Not in my world," he replied, shaking his head. "There are loads of things different there."

Molly rested her head on her hands and looked out the window onto an impossibly green lawn. "You still look like my Ron," she said finally.

He couldn't help but laugh a little. "Yeah, I think that's how it works," he said, pulling off his hat and running his hands though unusually long hair. The silence hung on a little longer. Molly Weasley obviously had a lot to think about.

"So none of us ever did…did y'know?" asked Ron, still wary of saying 'magic' after his mum's reaction. This was really weird, talking about a possible life of his. No wonder Harry hadn't talked about last November much, it was pretty disturbing.

Molly shook her head. "Obviously your father and I did, and Bill did for a little while, but even Charlie has trouble remembering it was so long ago." She stood up from the table and started cluttering about with her bowls of cake mixture again. "They'll be home soon, maybe we could talk to them and see what they think," she said kindly. Ron nodded. He wasn't sure what his dad or his brother would be able to do, but at least she wasn't forbidding him from talking about it like it seemed she would a few minutes ago.

xxx

Not again. Anything rather than this again, please.

But it was no good. Harry realised this, he knew with absolute certainty. But he still didn't want to open his eyes.

The unbelievable headache, the dizziness, the fact he was splayed awkwardly on the floor with people trying to revive him. And of course what had happened in the History classroom.

He had crossed over to another reality. Again. But had he done it alone?

Summoning as much will power as he could muster, Harry Potter opened his eyes and took in the surroundings he had found himself in.

Even though all he could see were table legs, he could tell he was in the Great Hall. Hermione and Ron were kneeling anxiously beside him, and as soon as he'd opened his eyes they lurched forward and gently helped him to sit.

"Harry," Hermione breathed, "are you alright? You just fainted."

Something in the pit of Harry's stomach plummeted. "Just me," he said feebly. "No one else?" Not you two, not Draco? he wanted to add, but he knew in his heart it was pointless.

They both shook their heads. "Nah mate," said Ron. He and Hermione took an arm each and hoisted Harry back into a seat at the table. He was surrounded by his usual classmates, no more or less than usual. In fact everything felt much the same; if it weren't for the displacement Harry might be questioning he'd leapt at all. He responded to peoples' curious glances with a weak smile and ran his hand through his hair. As he brushed his forehead he felt the familiar scar. At least that was still with him in this world.

Noticing his hand action Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Is it your scar?" she asked earnestly. "Is it You-Know-Who?" Ron raised his eyebrows too in anticipation.

Right, thought Harry making mental notes. I have the scar, but Voldemort's still out there, just like in my world. But what's different? He looked around the Hall to the Slytherin table. He realised that people were just finishing off their lunches, so he must have been unconscious for no time at all compared to his last two jumps, but that wasn't actually what was concerning him.

There sat between Crabbe and Goyle was Draco Malfoy, and Harry's heart plummeted again as he saw the blonde boy pointing and laughing in his direction. Just like the Draco from his world, nothing like the boy he'd come to call friend.

It seemed he was all alone.

"Harry?" said Hermione again as he failed to respond to her last question. "What's wrong, can we help?"

He turned and looked distractedly at his two best friends. He sighed. "Well, not really," he admitted honestly, and rested his hands on his head. What the Hell had happened? Sarah and Draco had been holding the letter, he'd done the spell right hadn't he? So why had he jumped, to a third reality none the less? Had the others jumped too, to different realities? How were they going to get home?

He had a pounding head full of questions, and he was finding the stares of his friends who weren't actually his friends surprisingly uncomfortable.

When he had crossed over last November his first instinct had been to contact Hermione, he just knew she'd be able to help. But now he just wanted to get away, this was the third Hermione he'd met, and quite frankly two had been pushing it. He shook his head and looked over at his friends to his left.

"Sorry," he stammered, running his hand through his hair again. "Think I got quite a knock on the head."

"Do you want to pop up to the medical wing," said Ron helpfully. Urgh, they have no idea I've actually evicted their friend from his own body, thought Harry bitterly. He had to get out of here.

"Er, no - no I don't think so," he replied. Where could he go?

Sirius! Sirius would know what to do he was sure, even if he was from a different reality. "Um, don't know if it's the headache but I've kind of forgotten where Sirius lives these days," he blagged lamely. "Is it that house over by the Shrieking Shack?"

Immediately he knew he'd said the wrong thing. Ron and Hermione both looked shocked and horrified. They stared at Harry for a good twenty seconds before Ron finally looked to Hermione for guidance. She opened and closed her mouth.

"Harry," she said slowly, "Sirius - Sirius is _dead_. Don't you remember, at the beginning of summer, when we went to the Ministry? He fell through the Veil."

Her eyes were bright with tears threatening to fall. Ron put his hand on her shoulder and they both continued looking at Harry intently. He took a deep breath and looked around the Hall. So many people, just eating, chatting, getting on with their lives, when Harry's had fallen apart. Again.

He rubbed his eyes. "Shit," he said as he propped his elbows on the table and rested his sore head in his hands. At least he knew what was different here now.

"I've - I think I'm going to get some fresh air," he said standing up. The other two did likewise, not taking their eyes off him. "I'll just go for a walk," he said vaguely, picking up his bag.

He knew he should be storming up to Dumbledore's office, looking for the correct spell to send him home, but the fact of the matter was that he knew how difficult the potion was and how rare one of the ingredients had been. It had been a miracle they'd been able to make it for Sarah and Draco, and Hermione herself had said it was far trickier to try and get yourself back rather than have someone pull you there. He was just tired.

He went to walk by them when Ron grabbed a tatty old book. "Wait, you forgot your _Advanced Potion-Making_," he said, thrusting it into Harry's hands. He couldn't help but notice Hermione roll her eyes and 'tut' in disapproval.

"What would I want with a potion book?" he asked without thinking. He didn't really want to go into the whole 'I'm from another reality' nonsense, it would only cause panic.

Ron looked a little offended. "Well, the Prince might have something good for headaches," he said, a little deflated. Harry felt bad for snapping at him.

"Right, of course," he said encouragingly, "I'll take a look."

He stuffed the book in his bag without a second thought and walked as quickly as he could from the Hall without actually running.

He'd gone to the last parallel universe because he'd been so angry about Sirius' capture and, 'other Hermione' had theorised, he'd somehow found a place where his godfather had never been betrayed Peter Pettigrew. So why was he here? He'd not been angry when the spell had gone off, just sad that Draco was leaving. If anything that should have taken him to a place where he and Draco were best friends or something shouldn't it? Maybe it was entirely random. He sighed and pushed open the big wooden doors, walking into the coolness of the entrance hall. This Indian Summer really was stifling.

As he walked out into the sunshine and into the grounds of the school, Harry became aware of something bouncing on his chest. He stopped in his tracks and carefully reached into his school shirt, extracting the offending item. He was gob smacked.

When Harry had travelled to the other world last November, he'd had the sneaking suspicion his wand had somehow managed to come with him, even when his clothes, even his own _body _had failed to do so. But he'd proved his theory on the return trip when he'd smuggled home a photograph he'd stolen from his family's gallery fully intact. And now it seemed it had happened again.

He was staring at a fine silver necklace, with a purple oval pendant suspended in a silver threaded web of a ball. It positively ebbed power. Harry swallowed, unease creeping though his insides. The necklace had been given to him by man named Alex, he'd called himself a Watcher, an immortal human who swore he had Harry's best interests at heart but Harry wasn't all that sure. He'd put it on and then not given it a second thought with everything that had happened at the Ministry, but here it was, in a different reality with him.

He looked at it as it glinted in the sunlight. Just what was going on here?

xxx

Harry Potter wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at. His eyes were open, but as he lay on his back everything that wasn't on the very edge of his vision just seemed to disappear into blackness. He blinked. How long had he been looking up into nothingness? He had no idea.

He stretched his fingers and toes. They were still there and working normally, which was a small comfort. He blinked again.

He could sort of make out impossibly high book cases, filled, naturally, with row upon row of unidentifiable books. Books of every size and colour, stacked in columns all around him, towering down formidably. He was starting to feel unnerved, so sat up to get a proper look at his surroundings.

He was in a circular well, bordered with wooden railings and two little stair cases at opposite ends. The towers of books had their ends pointing into the circular well, and they extended out into the darkness further than Harry could see. The carpet he was sat on was plush and a rich red colour. With him in the well were several tables surrounded by chairs in the same reddish wood as the railings and book cases, as well as a number of fat green sofas. He could faintly smell something burning, like a bonfire smouldering long after the high flames had been extinguished.

"Harry?"

He turned and saw Hermione Granger sitting behind him, looking just as confused as he felt. He frowned. Her hair was sleek, straight and cut in a layered fashion around her face. Her clothes were well fitted and accessorised with sparkly jewellery and a chunky belt. She was even wearing make-up.

"Hermione?" he said in disbelief. "What - where are we?"

She looked at him closely and frowned, concentration lining her features. "We were in the library…" she began, but he shook his head.

"I don't think so," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I haven't been there all day."

She cupped her hands over the lower part of her face and looked thoughtfully to her left. "You're not…you're not the Harry from Germany are you?" she asked carefully, looking back at him. He wasn't sure what to make of such a bizarre question.

"I've never been to Germany," was all he could think to say. She frowned and put her hands back on her face, propping her elbows on her knees.

"Potter!"

Harry spun round again, this time looking up between the railings in front of him. Draco Malfoy was sitting there grabbing onto the wooden beams with two hands and staring daggers down at Harry below. He hoisted himself up and stormed down into the well, and Harry thought this would be a good time to stand himself. Hermione did likewise as the blond boy came face to face with Harry.

"Draco?" she said softly, but he ignored her.

"I don't know what the Hell you're playing at Potter but it ends now!" he spat petulantly. "When my father finds out what you've done you won't know what's hit you!"

"Me?" cried Harry incredulously and pushed Malfoy out of his personal space. "This seems exactly the kind of thing _your _lot would cook up - kidnapping is right up your ally!"

"I have no sodding idea where we are you bloody idiot!" yelled Malfoy back, pushing Harry just like he'd done to him a moment earlier.

"Boys!" cried Hermione and jumped between them. She looked at Harry briefly, then turned her attention to Malfoy. "What's wrong with you, shouting won't solve anything."

"Oh shut up Granger," said Malfoy impatiently and pushed her aside. "I'm not in the mood for your prattling."

Tears sprung into Hermione's eyes, but she bit her lip and held onto them. "Okay, both of you are acting completely out of character to the Draco and Harry I know. What's the last thing you remember?"

Both the boys looked at her. This was the second strange question she'd asked Harry. "Er - I was sitting in the Great Hall," he said, searching his memory; it seemed so long ago. "I think you were laying into me about the Half-Blood Prince."

"What day was it?"

"What day?" She nodded, and he frowned in concentration. "Well, I think it was Thursday - Thursday lunchtime." She raised her eyebrows, nodded again and turned to Malfoy.

"What about you Draco?" she asked.

"Why are you calling me that, _Granger,_" he snapped nastily, but she lost her temper.

"Oh answer the question for God's sake!" she yelled and put her hands on her hips, eyes blazing. He looked a little taken aback.

"I was playing chess, in the common room." He thought a second. "I'm sure it was a Sunday evening."

Hermione seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, though Harry failed to see what this had cleared up.

"I think we're in a parallel universe or something, all three of us."

The boys looked blankly at her. "I'm sorry, but _come again?" _snarled Malfoy. Hermione folded her arms and glared at him.

"Last November the Harry Potter in my world was replaced by a counterpart from another reality. He managed to get back home after a few days, but then last Sunday the Draco Malfoy from my world disappeared along with Harry's sister Sarah, around Sunday tea time."

"My sister?" said Harry in disbelief, but the other two paid him no attention.

Malfoy stared at her and seemed to even relax his scowl a little. He gave a brief shifty glance in Harry's direction. "Last November," he began cautiously, "Harry Potter vanished for a couple of days and nobody ever knew where he went."

Hermione smiled. "So, it seems that Draco and Sarah went back to the world the other Harry came from." She caught a lock of silky hair between her fingers and blew out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank God, I'd hoped as much."

"What?" snapped Harry, unable to stop himself. "Just _what_ are you talking about and _what _ is going on?!"

Hermione looked at him patiently. "The three of us are from different realities, parallel universes if you like."

"And if I don't like?" sniped Malfoy. Hermione looked strangely at the blond haired boy, and seemed to take her time deciding what she should say.

"There's not much I can do about it," she settled on.

"But what the Hell's happening now?" cried Harry, getting more and more frustrated. "I'm not from either of those _realities" - _he couldn't believe he just said that - "and we have no idea where we are!" But Hermione was already shaking her head and smiling.

"I think my Draco's still in this Draco's body, so this is whatever place his soul or whatever has been sent to." She looked quite excited about working all this out. Typical Hermione.

"What about us then," began Harry.

"I think we must have been replaced as well," she carried on. "A different Hermione is in my body, and a different Harry is in yours. Now we've all ended up here, wherever here is." She paused and bit her lip. "Though it's strange, Sirius said Harry always swore he had no memory of where he went for those few days."

"Sirius?" Harry couldn't help but interject. "Are you telling me you come from a world where Sirius is alive and I have a sister?"

Hermione looked carefully at him. "Um, well yes," she said sadly.

"What else is different?" he demanded. He didn't know what good it would do - probably none at all - but he couldn't help himself.

"Well, I…" Hermione looked doubtful as to what good it would do as well, but she seemed to judge from the look in his eyes it wouldn't be worth arguing. "Well…Draco lives with you and your parents after everything that happened last November."

Harry's knees gave way beneath him and he managed to slump into a nearby chair. "My parents?" he said weakly. Hermione nodded.

"The Harry that crossed over told me what was different between his universe and mine was that Sirius had never trusted Wormtail to be your parents Secret Keeper-"

"So they never died," Harry finished. He felt sick.

"They're still dead in my world," added Malfoy in a humorous but spiteful tone. Harry jumped up and grabbed him by the collar.

"You're exactly the same Malfoy!" he spat and shoved him a few feet away. "And nothing would make me feel better right now than to give you a good smack!"

"Oh what is wrong with you?" screamed Hermione. Harry looked at her, but realised she was looking only at Malfoy. "You're a good person!" She pointed at Harry. "I know he's a bit of an idiot where I come from, but he has his reasons and I've met one...maybe two other thoroughly decent versions of him now!" She crossed her arms and finally let a single tear fall down her cheek. "What wrong with you Draco?"

"I don't owe you anything Granger!" Malfoy shouted back, looking very put out by her outburst.

"What the _Hell!?"_

All three students, so far away from where they belonged, spun in unison to look over at one of the green couches. Ron Weasley was kneeling behind it, grabbing onto the back for support, looking completely freaked out.

"Who the Hell are you guys, where the Hell am I?" he demanded, looking round wildly as he got to his feet. He was wearing a cut off t-shirt and a back to front baseball cap, but what Harry found most strange was…

"You're talking with an American accent?" he couldn't help but splutter.

This other Ron, the most different out of all of his three new companions, folded his arms in a defensive sort of way. "Yeah," he said, "and what are you, Australian?"

Harry blinked but it was Malfoy who answered. "We're English you half wit," he sneered. Ron took a step forward.

"Hey, I don't know where I am or what's going on so how about you cut me a break?"

Before anyone else could attempt to defuse the situation they were interrupted by a stern 'Shhh!" from somewhere within the books on Harry's right. Everybody froze.

There was a sound of wheals, then suddenly a ladder came whooshing out of the darkness along one of the corridors created by the book cases. It teetered as it reached the edge and came to a halt. About ten feet up, which was probably two thirds of the length of the ladder, stood a little grey haired man in a waist coat and ink covered fingers, gripping onto the ladder sides resolutely. He waited for the wheels to steady themselves, then stormed down the steps until he reached the floor. Harry guessed he was only about five foot but he managed to hold the unwavering attention of the room none the less.

He marched over to a pile of books stacked by the railings, stomped up it and smacked his hands onto the wood, making the four teenagers jump. Having exerted this energy the little man seemed to calm somewhat. He pressed his palms together and placed his index fingers gently against his lips. He took a deep breath in through his nose.

"There is to be _no _shouting in the library," he said in a soft voice, much lower than his stature might have suggested it would be. Harry, like the others, was stunned into silence. The man smiled. "Much better," he said, jumping off the stack of books and walking round to the nearest staircase. Four heads turned and followed him until he stood before them.

"Um…" said Harry before really thinking about it. "I'm sorry about the noise, but - well where are we? What library is this?"

The little man scoffed and walked over to a nearby table. As he started talking he tidied books and papers that had been left scattered over the surface area. "Why ask me, it's of your doing," he said scornfully.

"Me?" asked Harry.

"All of you," the man snapped pompously. "Everything was ticking along fine until you all showed up at once, and well, now here we all are."

Harry felt more confused than ever, and he wasn't the only one. "I don't understand," piped up Hermione. The man sighed, climbed up onto one of the chairs and sat on the table with the now tidied books. He drummed his fingers on the desk.

"This is what you might call…oh what's the best word." He paused and thought, with all four students barely blinking their attention was so focused. They all wanted answers very badly. "I guess 'limbo' might be the best translation, even if it is crude, an in between place if you will."

"Because we've been replaced by doppelgangers from other realities?" offered Hermione brazenly. Ron looked at her with wide, worried eyes.

"Huh?"

"Correct Miss Granger," said the man. This made Harry very uneasy.

"How do you know my name?" said the young girl carefully, but the man just waved his hand dismissively. "Oh I know who you all are, where you come from," he said by way of an explanation. "This - all this you see before you is created around you, specifically for you. Even myself, this form to a certain extent has come from the four buzzing psyches that stand before me."

"You mean," said Harry, trying to wrap his head around everything. "That we created this library?"

The grey haired man sighed again and shook his head. "This 'limbo' as we are to call it, is so infinitely complex it normally refuses to be moulded into such confined definition as _form_. But the influx of consciousness that came with you four in such a short space of relative time forced some sort of structure to come into place, and this is it."

"We chose to put ourselves in a library that stinks of burning trees?" said Malfoy with an arched eyebrow.

"Well we are in desperate need of answers," said Hermione logically.

"Malfoy's been for days though, why's it only just taken form?" asked Harry. The little man rubbed his chin.

"Time is not as linier here as it is in your worlds," he began explaining. "You all appeared at relatively the same time and sort of _glued _ the place together. We get people drifting into this realm all the time, but they are half lives, neither living nor dead, and they haven't got the strength that you have still being tethered to the 'real' world as we are to call it, or rather them. Real worlds. Plural."

Harry screwed up his eyes and opened them again. This was an awful lot to take in and the man used such ornate language. "Half lives?" he repeated. The man nodded.

"Those who are no longer part of your plane of existence, but who have not exactly died either. Um, Marie?"

He looked up to a point behind the four of them, and Harry and the others turned to look at who he was talking to. A little girl of no more than four years was crouching behind the railings, her hands on the beams just like Malfoy had done, face pressed up in between them. At the mention of her name she jumped up with a gasp and clasped her hands over her mouth. She was wearing an emerald green dress with cream polka dots and a big cream ribbon around her waist. She had a headband of the same material in her bob of dark brown hair, and her fridge was trimmed just above her eyebrows.

"_Je suis d__é__sole, Monsieur Biblioth__é__caire!" _she cried, like a daughter would to her father. She looked around the room with wide, disbelieving eyes, before casting her gaze down to her small hands. She flexed them in front of her face, then looked back at the man and the crowd before him.

"_Esc'que je peut avoir une glace, s'il vous pla__î__t?" _she asked shyly. The man chuckled.

"Of course," he replied, and held out his hand, indicating an area to the left. "Help yourself."

She broke into a beaming smile and ran around the walkway. She stopped and grabbed a metal ring on the floor and heaved open a trap door. She reached her arm all the way inside, and just when Harry thought she would surely fall in she leant out again, an ice cream proudly in her grasp. She let the door fall down again and sat on the floor, ignoring all the rest and began eating her prize.

"Marie is from the same reality as Mr Malfoy here," the grey haired man explained. "Those lost souls from you own realms will undoubtedly be the first to manifest as you will create a stronger platform for them to reach out to. But given time, those from other realities, far and wide, will begin to appear and then we shall have some real trouble on our hands."

"What happened to her?" asked Hermione sadly.

The man shrugged and pulled out a pocket watch, he checked the time as he answered her then put it back in his waistcoat pocket. "About six weeks ago her mother was experimenting with some spell or other, but it went wrong and accidentally pushed the little girl out of that dimension. She's not _dead_ you see," he said, leaning on his knees. "But she is no longer _there _either. She sort of _latched _onto me as best she could as soon as she got here," said the man warmly, "but of course this is the first time I have seen her."

Harry rubbed his head. "So, to summarise," he said, a little more irritably than he meant to. "We are from four different realities, where four doppelgangers have taken are bodies and are running round doing God knows what with them. We ourselves are in a place we subconsciously created, on a plane of existence for people who are neither dead or alive. Because we have created a solid, physical place by arriving here, we will steadily be joined by more of these people, initially from our own four realities and then from the countless others there are out there. Sound about right?"

The little man raised his eyebrows and Harry couldn't tell if he was annoyed or impressed. "You seem to have quite a grasp of the situation, Mr Potter," was all he said.

"Good," Harry carried on, aware that the other three were looking at him. "So my next question is, how do we get home?"

The man with the grey hair, whom the little French girl had called 'Mr Librarian', leant back on his hands and took a deep breath through his nose. "There is no _getting home_," he said matter-of-factly, looking into the empty space above their heads thoughtfully.

"So we're stuck here?" cried Malfoy. The man shook his head.

"No, no - I didn't say that Mr Malfoy," he said, leaning forward and looking at them with ice blue eyes. "What I said was, _you _can't get yourselves home. This is not a physical place, any magic performed here will only have relevance in this plane." He leant back again but kept his eyes on the four teenagers before him. "If you want to leave, somebody from your own reality has to get you out from their end."

Harry looked back at the man with disbelieving eyes. "Oh," he said. And then with an afterthought - "Crap."


	2. Take A Deep Breath

Chapter Two -

Take A Deep Breath

Draco Malfoy looked at the scene that lay before him. Shattered glass glinted in the shafts of weak sunshine filtering through the storm clouds. A small gust of wind rushed through the empty window frame in the old History of Magic classroom, ruffling his hair and catching the piece of parchment he'd let fall to the ground.

Sarah Potter, a frozen figure by his side, sprung to life and seized the bit of paper before it could be wafted outside. She clutched the enchanted letter and became still once more, staring at it with a look of disbelief on her face. Slowly she turned to look at Draco.

"We didn't jump."

This might have been a strange thing to say in any other context, but to Draco it made perfect sense. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley had been performing a spell to send the two of them back to their own world, their own parallel reality. But they were still here.

"Where's Harry?" asked Sarah. She looked remarkably like her brother, even without the glasses. "What's going on?"

Draco blinked. They were still here. But the other three weren't. They hadn't been anywhere near the parchment, let alone touching it. How were he and Sarah still standing there when the others were...

That was assuming they had jumped. What if they'd just been obliterated, evaporated into magical dust, or worse?

"Draco," the girl demanded. She stood resolutely before him, younger, but full of conviction, the paper gripped tightly in her hands. "We didn't jump and the others are gone."

Draco's silvery eyes met her green ones. He swallowed dryly, he could taste the glass in the air, hot like sawdust.

"Right," he said, finding his voice. "I think maybe we should do something about that."

xxx

Harry Potter shifted his weight as he sat on the grass, back leaning against the gnarly tree trunk. The Indian Summer made the late afternoon air close, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

Between his fingers, swinging like a pendulum, was a necklace. The chain was fine and the pendant had a purple stone magically suspended between slender threads of silver. He was sure it was the reason he had found himself in yet another alternate reality, but he didn't understand why. When Alex had given it him he had said it would 'guide him', and seeing as several of Harry's friends had been kidnapped at the time he had naturally assumed it would lead him to them.

But then Harry couldn't explain why, when they'd got back to Hogwarts safe and sound, he hadn't taken it off. He told himself he'd forgotten about it, but he knew that wasn't true. On some level he'd kept it on on purpose, and now he was in a world where not only his parents were dead, but so was Sirius and Merlin knew who else.

This was different than last time he'd jumped though. Last time he'd been so angry about Sirius being recaptured he somehow transported himself (through the dimensional hotspot) to a reality where his godfather was not only free, but he had the opportunity to bring Wormtail to justice. This time he'd just been sad about Draco going home and he'd landed in somewhere totally random.

A cool breeze blew by, swinging the necklace even more. "This isn't random," said Harry aloud to no one in particular. There had to be a reason this had happened, something he was meant to do. He and Draco had both found themselves in perilous, life changing situations when they had leapt, so what was going to happen to him now?

The thought made him extremely uneasy, like walking around in the dark waiting for something to jump out at him. He shuddered as another breeze blew by.

No, this wasn't getting him anywhere. Last time he'd found Hermione living a Muggle life and the two of them had struggled through together. But this Hermione, along with this Ron, were too similar to his own. It was confusing not comforting, and that's why he'd found himself alone in the school grounds, looking out over the great lake wondering what the Hell he was going to do now.

Sitting here wasn't the answer, so he stood awkwardly up, his legs stiff from sitting on the uneven ground. There were books that mentioned dimensional hotspots, the other Sirius said he'd come across one or two. If Sirius could find them so could Harry, and what better place to look than the best magical library in the country? He started striding across the grass back towards the castle, the weight on his heart lifted ever so slightly.

xxx

A Harry who wasn't Harry pounded on Professor McGonagall's door for a third time. Hermione sighed.

"She's not in there," she said before she could help herself. Harry and Parvati scowled at her before he gave it another try. She sighed again and walked a couple of paces away. What was the use? He was so stubborn he wasn't going to listen to anything she had to say; it was lucky she'd been able to convince him thus far about what was going on, he wasn't exactly going to bend over backwards to take her advice.

Hermione was perhaps not being as honest as she could be with herself about how unpleasant it was to have someone looking like your best friend acting so unkindly towards you. She kept reminding herself logically that it wasn't her Harry, but why did this Harry hate this Hermione so much in the first place? What had gone so horribly wrong?

She realised she was looking at her own reflection in the windowpane, and what she saw shocked her. She knew her clothes had felt strange, but seeing the reality was even weirder. Her mass of bushy hair had been sleekly straightened, she was wearing make-up and the outfit was extremely well fitted and matched. How had she ended up looking like this?

"Ziggy mate I don't think she's there," said Terry Boot gently. It took Hermione a moment to realise he was talking to Harry. Harry turned and peered slightly disdainfully over his glasses at his friend, pursed his lips and said nothing as he turned away, hands folded over his chest.

"Well where is she then?" demanded Parvati, but she needn't have bothered. At that moment Professor McGonagall came sweeping around the corner, her arms full of books. She seemed only slightly surprised by the deputation at her door and barely paused in her stride.

"Hello Harry," she said almost sympathetically. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to speak to my parents," answered Harry without any need for formalities. He watched impatiently as the teacher unlocked her door. "It's urgent," he added.

Professor McGonagall looked up at his sharply. "What's the matter?" she asked carefully. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but looked at Hermione and shut it. What was that about she wondered.

"Please?" was all he said in the end.

She blinked and clutched the books in her arms. "Your mother and father left a few hours ago," she informed him. "They thought it prudent to try and recuperate, as they weren't having much luck here at Hogwarts with..." she trailed off, but they all knew what she meant. Sarah.

Harry nodded, eyebrows slightly creased in concentration. "Fine – yes that's – thank you Professor." He turned on his heels and walked back the way the party had come ten minutes ago. When they were well out of earshot Parvati piped up.

"Why didn't you tell her Harry?" she asked, trying to keep pace as he marched on. He didn't answer for a minute and Hermione thought he wasn't going to at all when he looked round at her.

"Some things...some things maybe we need to do by ourselves."

"What, like going to Germany?" the Indian girl snapped, stopping mid walk. Everyone else stopped and looked at her. Harry's jaw was set, but he relaxed it enough to lick his lips.

"That wasn't me, remember," he said, looking at Hermione for a third time, but this time it was almost accusing. He looked back at Parvati. "I know it was bad..."

"You don't know shit!" she yelled in a surprisingly animated way for Parvati. Hermione was a little shocked, and she wasn't the only one.

"Parvati," Harry began, but she pointed a shaking finger at him.

"No!" she silenced him. "I was the only one that was there and it was the most..._horrific _thing that's ever happened to me! And now, what? You want to go running off into some other mess when there are experienced wizards and witches around who should be taking on the responsibility, not us!"

"All I want to do is go talk to my parents," said Harry raising his voice. "I don't want a million teachers crowding around cooing over the Boy Who Lived!" He swallowed and lowered his tone. Hermione saw Terry's eyes flick ever so subtly over the scar that marked the black haired boy's forehead. "I promise it won't be like before" said Harry, "I promise."

Parvati folded her arms. "You can't promise," she said quietly, her gaze falling to the floor. There was an awkward silence as the two boys looked at each other; Hermione tried her best to blend into the wall.

"No you're right," said Harry after a while. "I can't promise that everything and everyone will be okay. But I can promise that right now all I want to do is talk to my mum and dad, that's it." Parvati looked up and their eyes met. "I have to tell them what we know, in person, and I want to do it now. So I'm taking us to a fireplace so I can contact them – okay?"

The young girl bit her lip and nodded. They started walking again, slowly at first, with Harry and Parvati up ahead; he reached out and took her hand, and she didn't pull away.

Hermione realised Terry Boot had fallen into step with her. Not only that, but he was staring at her quizzically. She went on a few more steps, but she couldn't help but look back up into those dark brown eyes. She raised her eyebrows almost apologetically.

"I have almost no idea what's going on," he said factually, and looked ahead once more. They walked a little further, taking some stairs upwards. "All Hell's broken loose in the last half hour, you say you're not you, and now we're on quest to find Sarah in some other reality. None of that makes sense, not even a bit." He paused. "I don't know where I'm going with this I just thought you should know."

Hermione laughed a little despite herself. "If it makes you feel better I feel the same, it's all a little crazy. I guess I've just got a bit too used to crazy."

He gave her another sideways look accompanied by a 'humph.'

"Well," he added as they rounded a corner into a familiar corridor. "At least things can't get much worse."

"Oh you want to bet?" asked Hermione sincerely.

xxx

Draco Malfoy was walking hurriedly along a corridor that look remarkably similar to the one Hermione was standing in, only it was about as far away as it could get. Sarah Potter was a few steps behind him as they made their way determinedly to their destination.

"Hey!" The voice came from behind them, and the two looked up to see three more students run down the stairs and stop in front of them. Draco recognised Dean Thomas as one of the new Muggle born students in his reality, there was a girl with red hair and Seamus Finnegan. Draco couldn't look at the Irish boy; the last time he had seen him was covered in his own blood dying on a forest floor. He wasn't what you'd call sensitive but that kind of image stays with a person.

It had been the girl that spoke. She folded her arms and looked disdainfully at Draco. "Where's Ron?" she demanded. Draco and Sarah looked at each other; his head was pounding, they didn't need this.

"What's it to you," he asked evasively, but the look on her face darkened.

"Just tell me Malfoy," she snapped, "I know he's been hanging around with you for some unfathomable reason and I need to talk to him."

"What, he your boyfriend or something?" asked Sarah, folding her arms too. Draco knew her well enough by now to appreciate she wouldn't respond well to being shouted at by a stranger. The red headed girl looked appalled.

"He's my brother!" she exclaimed.

"I'm her boyfriend!" said Dean at almost the same time.

Draco wracked his brains. "Jenny Weasley?" he tried. She looked confused and even more angry.

"_Ginny," _she spat out. "I haven't got time for your games Malfoy, why won't you tell me where he his?"

Draco and Sarah looked at each other once more, unsure of what to say. "I don't know," was all the blonde boy could honestly think of in the end. He turned and carried on walking down the corridor with Sarah at his side. Ginny and the others followed.

"What do you mean you don't know, where did you last see him?"

Draco stopped again, folded his arms and sighed. "In the old History of Magic classroom, and that's the truth – I don't know where he went from there, but I'm on my way to find out." He started walking again, the entourage not far behind.

"Why do you care?" asked Seamus, genuinely concerned. This time Draco did not stop.

"It's...complicated," was the best he could manage.

"Make it uncomplicated Malfoy," responded Dean. This made Draco lose his temper.

"_What?"_ he snapped, spinning round to look at the other three. "We're in a whole world of trouble here and I really don't have time for your _prattling._ Bugger off and do us all a favour. And don't call me Malfoy."

"Ron's in trouble?" asked Ginny, her face suddenly pale. Draco calmed a little; he was feeling pretty queasy. It was probably something to do with being unconscious for the last few days but it really wasn't helping.

"And Harry and Hermione," he admitted. Perhaps he and Sarah could do with some help – these three obviously weren't going to just go away by yelling at them after all. "They've disappeared, we sort of know where but we need help getting them back. We're on our way to see that Charms teacher, what's his name?"

"Flitwick?" supplied Ginny. Draco clicked his fingers.

"That's the one, we need to see if he can work something with that piece of parchment here." Sarah held up the paper in her hands to show them. "Where's his office though, I can't remember."

Ginny frowned and looked at the two boys flanking her. "Why are you helping them?" she asked, suspicious. "What's it to you?" Draco rubbed his throbbing head.

"I'm not...things are a bit different," he explained. He really didn't want to go into all the detail now, it would take too much time to convince them. "Just, can you trust that we're really worried and we need to help to bring everybody back." And get us home, he thought privately. The other three looked at each other; Seamus nodded ever so slightly.

Ginny looked back at Draco. "Okay, we'll take you to Flitwick's." She started walking ahead them turned round as the others followed. "But if this is some kind of sick joke Malfoy I'll rip all the appendages from your body starting with you know what – clear?"

"If you stop calling me Malfoy we'll all be just peachy," he said grouchily as she turned back round. They carried on down the corridor, and Dean turned to him and Sarah.

"So where do you think Ron and the others have gone?" he asked, eyebrows raised. Draco kept looking determinedly ahead. Sarah ran her long black ponytail through her hand nervously. Draco decided honesty was probably the best policy again.

"It really could be anywhere."

xxx

Ron Weasley stormed out into the afternoon sun. Why is it so bloody hot here, he thought as he pulled his t-shirt away from his chest to let some air in. What kind of a stupid place is this? He really would have given anything to be back in the cool passageways of the Hogwarts castle. He flopped down onto the front lawn and pulled at the thick green grass. Where the hell was Ohio anyway? He wasn't even sure what America really looked like, he just knew it was big and Ohio was a place he'd never heard of.

There were footsteps behind him, and he looked round to see A.J. and Chris standing in front of the doorstep. They looked as if they'd seen a ghost.

"What's a Muggle?" said Chris quietly. A.J. had his hands in his pockets, he looked slightly more composed but he was still staring fixedly at Ron.

"What?" said Ron. Had they been listening? That wasn't good. "Nothing," he stammered, "nothing."

"Then why were you talking about them, and magic?" asked A.J. reasonably. Chris looked at his friend, then back at Ron. He seemed pretty freaked out.

"You shouldn't have been listening to that," said Ron, squinting against the sunshine. He was probably going to burn if he stayed out here much longer, but at the moment he didn't care.

"Is...is Muggle a bad thing?" said A.J., his eyes on the ground.

"Yeah," added Chris, "is it like, an insult or something?" Ron rubbed his forehead.

"No of course not – it's just a word."

"But what does it mean," pushed A.J. For some reason it seemed really important to them. "You kept saying to your mom-"

"Yeah I know what I said," interrupted Ron, pulling some blades of grass from the dry ground. "It doesn't matter."

"But-"

"It means someone who can't do magic!" snapped Ron. What did it matter, these people didn't mean anything to him, they were total strangers. Chris had his mouth slightly open and A.J.'s eyes were wide.

"Magic?" said the blonde boy quietly. "You said that to your mom but...well you can't..."

"Yes I can," said Ron irritably. "I'm a wizard from another reality, and if you're not careful I'll turn you into a toadstool."

"Why are you saying these things man?" said Chris, kicking a stone on the ground. "You sound pretty crazy."

"Maybe I am crazy," said Ron, getting angry. "It's not really any of your business."

"Not our business?" cried the black boy A.J., "we've know you since kindergarten and you say it's not our business?!" Ron jumped to his feet to face the two other boys.

"If you _had_ been listening you'd know that I met you about an hour ago!" he yelled back. He clenched his fists. He was frustrated and scared and these two were having a go at him? "You don't know anything so don't talk to me like I'm an idiot, you're the idiots, I'm lost and alone and yeah _it's none of your business!"_

There was a box on a stick at the end of the lawn with 'Weasley' written on it. Or at least there used to be, as at this moment it exploded in a cloud of purple smoke. All three spun around to look at it.

"Blimey," said Ron, "I haven't done that since I was a kid." He frowned. Weren't you supposed to stop spontaneous magic when you went to school? Maybe it was because he didn't have a wand any more or something. He turned round to find Chris and A.J. staring open mouthed at him. "What?" he said defensively.

"You didn't do that," said Chris. It wasn't a question. Ron shoved his hands into his pockets; his jeans were slightly too big and were slipping off his hips – why wasn't he wearing a belt for goodness sake?

"Didn't mean to," he said dully, "normally I'd need a wand."

"A wand?" A.J. said flatly.

"Yes a wand," snapped the red head. "A magic wand, to do magic things with, like exploding boxes on sticks." Not that he knew what spell that would be. Hermione might. He sighed and dropped to the grass once more. His first thought had been to try and find Hermione seeing as Harry was dead – it made his stomach hurt to just think of that. But he realised that even if he did manage to track her down without magic, she'd probably be all the way over in England, and probably living like a Muggle like she had been in that other world Harry went to last November.

He was so alone.

A car pulled up on the pavement by the house and a young man got out. It took Ron a moment to recognise him as his oldest brother Bill; he was wearing a suit and his very long hair was all cut off neatly into a more conventional cropped style. He pulled out a black briefcase and locked the little silver car. "Hello!" he called out to Ron and the others as he made his way up the path to the front door. He had the same accent as the rest of his family. Weird. "How you guys doing?"

Ron couldn't help but look at both of his new companions as they turned and looked back at him. "Oh, y'know, the usual," said A.J. as casually as he could. Bill smiled at them as he unlocked the door and walked inside.

The red headed boy slumped onto his back and stared up at the clouds moving lazily by in the sky. A pair of swallows darted above him, chasing each other's tails. Maybe if he screwed up his eyes and wished hard enough this would all somehow go away and he could go join Harry in the Great Hall for dinner. A steak and kidney pie would be fantastic right about now.

He shut his eyes and scrunched up his fists and forehead in concentration. Take me home, he thought, please just take me home. A moment or two past; the sun felt very hot on his face. Slowly he squinted open his left eye – there were now two silhouetted figures looming over him. He opened the other eye.

"You're a wizard," said A.J. in a clarifying sort of way. Ron drummed his fingers on his belly.

"Er...yeah." He knew his mum had said he shouldn't talk about it, but there was no point denying it now.

"You kept very quiet about it," said Chris. Ron sighed and sat up. The other two backed off a bit and looked down at him.

"That was the other Ron," he explained, "the guy you know, not me. And he's not aware of the fact."

A.J. thought about this. "Okay...for argument's sake, where's the Ron we know then?"

Ron shrugged. "No idea, but he'll come back when I get home, that's what happened to the other Harry."

"Harry?"

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, you don't know him I don't think – he's dead here."

"Oh," said Chris. There was another pause. "So where's home if it's not here?"

"Uh – well it's a town called Ottery St Catchpole in England. Actually the school's somewhere near Scotland – that's where I was."

Chris sat down beside him. "So how come you're here now?" A.J. had his arms folded and was looking off into the distance. Ron wasn't sure if he was still listening or not.

"There was an accident I guess." He explained how Harry had found himself in a parallel world last year, that Draco and his sister had crossed back over last week, and when they'd tried to send them home he'd woken up here.

"This happen all the time then, people crossing into alternate realities?" asked A.J. still staring down the street. Obviously listening though.

"Don't think so," said Ron shaking his head. "Harry kind of opened a doorway and Hermione thought he weakened the barrier between the worlds, or something, so that's how Draco and Sarah fell through. Dunno how I got here though." His stomach rumbled, thinking about dinner had made him realise how famished he was.

"Can you get back?" Chris asked, staring at Ron, his blond hair sticking to his forehead. Somewhere in the distance a roll of thunder rumbled ominously. Ron couldn't keep his gaze, it was too intense, so he looked down at the grass he was absent-mindedly pulling.

"Well...yeah...I _can._" He paused as A.J. looked over at him. "I'm just not sure _how._"

The was quite a long pause where none of the boys seemed to want to look at each other, choosing to stare off into space. Another car swung clumsily into the driveway of the house, this one was bigger than Bill's and looked like it needed a good clean. The inside dashboard was littered with bits and pieces; food wrappers, toys, car parts, air fresheners. Mr Weasley smiled and waved cheerfully as the garage door opened by itself and he drove the vehicle in. Ron didn't understand how it did that without magic, but hadn't the energy to ask.

"Where do you get magic wands from?" Ron looked at Chris and took a moment to actually hear the question, so lost in his thoughts as he was.

"Uh – a shop in London, I'm a bit useless without it."

"But-"

"Why are you encouraging him?" The two boys on the ground looked at the one standing up. A.J. still had his arms folded over his Bon Jovi t-shirt and he squinted in the evening sun. "I mean, he's talking lunacy and you're asking questions."

Chris looked uncertainly at Ron, maybe trying to decide if he was being taken for a ride or not. "I'm just trying to understand what's going on," he said slowly.

"What's going on is he's making a fool out of you!" snapped A.J. "This sounds like a God damn film script, it's not real life."

"It is now," said Ron indignantly, "and I don't care if you believe it or not coz it's happening with or without you."

"Parallel Universes. Magic." He paced up and down the grass. "I don't get why you'd even think it was funny, it's lame. I think I'm gonna go home, this is insulting."

"What you gonna walk six blocks? Coz I ain't driving you," snapped Chris, sitting up straight. "Whatever's happening Ron needs help."

"He's not acting much like Ron-"

"That's what I'm saying!" yelled Ron. "I'm not him, and if you don't care about getting him back I really don't need you."

"I thought you said we didn't matter and it was none of our business?"

Ron couldn't be bothered to answer and flopped back down on the grass again. There was another silence, but at least A.J. didn't leave.

"How do you explain the mailbox then?" Chris asked after a while. Ron craned his neck to look at both of them. A.J. threw up his hands in frustration.

"I don't know – a firecracker or something! I'm just trying to look at this logically, and I'm asking why Ron would spin a story like this when it's not like him at all."

"Because it's not a story!" retorted Ron. "Seriously, you're not helping so why don't you just leave."

"Hang on," said Chris before A.J. had a chance to reply. "Hang on - do you remember when we all got forced to try out for the school play back in the Eighth Grade?"

A.J. blinked, then stared at his friend. Ron looked between the two of them.

"What," said A.J. slowly, "in God's name does that have to do with-"

"No, hear me out," cried Chris, jumping to his feet. "What happened to the music the girl on the piano was using?"

"Well...it...what does it...?" said A.J. beginning to pace again. Ron stood up, not really sure where the blood boy was going with this. "The ink ran," finished A.J.

"It God damn melted!" cried Chris. "Every single note ran off the page! All over the keys! And when did it happen – who was auditioning?" A.J. stopped walking.

"You're not seriously suggesting Ron was responsible for that?"

"He said he can do magic by accident – how else in four years do you explain it?"

A.J. seemed to genuinely stop and think about this; Chris had a look of excitement on his face. Ron didn't know if he should say something, it would probably only make things worse.

"I..." A.J. faltered. "I don't know, I guess..." He looked over at Ron. "That was the weirdest damn thing I've ever seen."

The front door opened and Bill came walking out, his face a mix of concern and determination. The three boys turned to look uncertainly at him as he stopped in front of them. He'd taken his jacket and tie off but still looked pretty smart in his shirt and trousers; he looked at Ron then the other two.

"Hey – could I have a minute," he asked. "Y'know, just the two of us?"

Ron looked at Chris and A.J. "I think they've pretty much heard anything," he said with a shrug. Bill didn't look convinced.

"This is about what you and mom talked about."

Ron actually laughed. "Well they've definitely heard all that – I think they're even starting to believe it." Chris nodded wide-eyed at the eldest Weasley; A.J. bit his lip, he was maybe less enthusiastic but he was paying attention.

"That's not good," said Bill raising his eyebrows at Ron, who felt annoyed again – why was everyone having a go at him?

"They were listening!" he cried, "It's not like I ran out here and said 'hey, guess what guys I'm a freaky English weirdo from another dimension!' They heard what mum said and then they wanted answers. And so do I," he added after a thought.

"Oh...well," said Bill, frowning. "I don't think that's a good idea...at all." He folded his arms and looked at the three younger boys. "But," he said slowly, "I guess it's done now." He thought a moment. "Let's walk."

They headed off down the street along the wide pavement. Bill waited until they were out of sight of the house before starting to talk. "Mom explained about your...problem. She's filling dad on it now, but...well they're really scared."

"Why?" asked Ron, that unpleasant feeling settling in his stomach again.

"They don't know where it might lead. We abandoned that way of life so long ago to protect the family it's a bit of a shock to have it land back in our laps again." He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and the four young men carried on walking. "I don't mean to scare you, but-" He faltered and Ron stopped walking. The others did the same.

"But what?"

"I – I don't think they want to help."

"What!" cried Ron. That unpleasant feeling was creeping up into his throat. Bill threw his hands up in exasperation.

"They don't know how! They haven't used magic in like fifteen years, they're not even those people any more – none of us are."

"You don't bloody sound it that's for sure," said Ron grumpily. What was he going to do if his parents refused to help?

"Why are they scared?" asked A.J.

Bill looked warily at his but decided to answer. "Things got really...really bad in England. There was this wizard, he took over and...well he was evil. He killed anyone that stood in his way. It was no secret we hated him, so we faked our deaths and fled over here – started a new life."

Bill started walking slowly again and so did the rest. "I don't know what to suggest," said after a few minutes. "I believe what you say Ron – it's insane but that doesn't mean it's not true."

"Yeah, it's fat lot of good being true if I'm stuck here," he said a little more harsh than he meant. He was feeling completely cut off and it was scaring him; who else could he turn to? They carried on walking in silence for a while.

"We moved here when I was in my second year of Hogwarts," Bill said eventually. "I was the only one doing magic – even Percy barely remembers it ever went on, which was a good thing but...well it was hard for me." He picked at his finger nails. "I begged mom and dad to let me keep studying, I promised I'd use a fake name, never tell a soul who we really were but they wouldn't give in – it was just too big a risk. So that was that, we changed our name to Smith, I enrolled in the local middle school while Charlie and the others went to the elementary down the road and we never talked about you know what again, in case anyone had put a taboo on us or anything. Chances were slim but mom wasn't taking any chances at all."

Bill looked very sad as they walked in the evening heat. Ron heard a distant rumble of thunder again and felt very sorry for his brother. The thought of having magic torn away from him and being forced to live as a Muggle was almost too much to bare. It's not that he ever felt wizards were better than Muggles, but it was bad enough in the summer holidays not being able to live life normally, let alone never again being able to do the simplest summoning spell or hover charm.

"What's a taboo?" asked A.J.

Bill sighed. "It means if you say a word it kind of sets of an alarm and the bad guys would be able to find us straight away. I don't think there are any, we've let a few key words slip over the years without trouble raining down on us, but it's always good to be safe."

They carried on walking; Ron kicked the odd stone that crossed his path. He was just about to open his mouth again and ask some more questions, when Bill continued talking.

"It took me a long time to let go of our old way of life," he began. There was a slight hint of guilty confession in his voice. "I was...well obsessed at going back to school. When it was clear I wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts I started looking for...other alternatives." He looked off into the horizon which was slowly changing colour. "There are lots of magic schools in the world Ron."

Ron stopped walking – so did everyone else. "And?"

Bill looked in straight in the eye. "And The Salem Academy of Magic is in Essex County, Massachusetts"

"Massachusetts?" cried Chris. "That's only New England!"

"Only," added A.J. scornfully, but the blond boy wasn't listening, and neither was Ron.

"Are you saying they could help me?" he asked his brother earnestly. A flicker of hope had ignited in his belly where the cold sickness had been sitting. Bill nodded.

"It's the only option I can think of, mom and dad are going to say no, but I think the teachers there could be more willing." There was a light shining in his eyes replacing the sadness from before.

"How do I get there?" Ron asked. From his back pocket Bill produced a notebook.

"That's everything I found when I was researching it years ago," he told him. "It's obviously unplotable, but I've got directions."

Chris grabbed the book before Ron had a chance to. "Road trip!" he breathed enthusiastically as he opened it up. A.J. looked alarmed.

"What?"

"You'd drive me there?" Ron asked, taken aback by the generosity. After all he'd technically only just met this boy.

"I don't know if they'll let Muggles in," said Bill uncertainly, but Chris shook his head.

"We'll tell 'em it's all special circumstances and all that; we'll bang the doors down!" He was grinning and so was Ron. Slowly Bill eased his frown.

"I guess mom would get suspicious if two of her sons up and disappeared for a few days – you could tell your parents it was a school trip or something."

"Hell yeah!" said Chris, punching the air with the hand holding the book. He turned to A.J. "Well – what do you say buddy?"

A.J. still had his arms folded, but after a moment he let them fall to his side with a half smile. "Oh what the Hell – someone's gotta keep an eye on you two morons. And I always wanted to see Salem."

Chris whooped and punched the black boy in what was meant to be an affectionate way; A.J. rubbed his arm but carried on smiling.

"Can we go now?" Ron saw no point in beating about the bush. Chris was nodding, but Bill held up his hand.

"Just one more thing," he said. "And if I give it to you you have to promise not to mention to anyone where we're living now or anything when you get to the school."

Ron nodded. "Like I'd know anyway."

Bill smiled and reached into his back pocket again. This time what lay in his hands was a beautiful, foot long, polished magic wand.

"I assume you know how to use one of these?"

xxx

Hermione watched Harry Potter pace back and forth in front of an old fireplace. He was muttering to himself in a distracted sort of way. Terry Boot sighed a little too loudly and looked at his watch and then at Hermione, which made Parvati Patel tut. Hermione was trying to decide if they'd ended up in the old History of Magic classroom by fate or happenstance.

This Harry, this strange Harry, was trying to remember the particular spell for talking to people by using the afore mentioned fireplace. Hermione wasn't sure why he couldn't do such a basic spell, and it was taking all of her strength not to tell him precisely what he needed to do. She figured she shouldn't push her luck.

"What's he like?"

Hermione blinked and looked at Terry. He had such an intense stare; his dark brown eyes really were a contrast against the golden hair lightly spiked around his face. He was several inches taller than her and his shoulders were well built. She tried to remember if he played Quidditch, but she never paid that much attention to the other teams.

"Who?"

"You're Harry," he explained quietly. The other two were still paying full attention to the fireplace. "You seem rather disappointed with this one."

"Oh," she said, a little embarrassed. It had been quite an outburst back in the library she supposed, but she'd been panicking. "He's...just different."

Terry stared out the window and thought for a moment.

"He's gone through a lot though," he said in a defensive but firm manor. "Having someone take his place and kill his mate – that's pretty shit. Hell that's off the chart bizarre but you all seem to except it okay enough."

"I never said it wasn't...bad," replied Hermione hissing slightly. "But it's not fair to blame my Harry when he didn't do it on purpose. And you want to hear about going through a lot?" She felt a prickling of annoyance creeping into her voice. "Try having your parents murdered and then coming face to face with You-Know-Who three more times after that!"

"_Not. Helping."_

The two of them turned to see Parvati looking thunderous. Harry was still absorbed in the spell he was trying to muster, but he looked fairly stressed himself. Terry threw his arms up.

"Deepest apologies. Ziggy stick your head in the God damn fire already." Harry gave the other boy a withering look, but instead of retaliating pulled out his wand, muttered a few choice words and knelt on the floor. He took a deep breath and thrust his torso into the flames.

A split second later he jolted back out howling. Parvati gasped and threw herself forward to slap out the flames that had caught onto Harry's clothes, but Harry was too preoccupied grabbing his forehead and rattling off profanities.

Terry and Hermione ran over to where they were sitting. "Are you alright?" asked Hermione breathlessly.

"Of course I'm not bloody alright!" snapped Harry. Hermione stood up and folded her arms, sorry she'd said anything. Terry leaned in and looked into the mantelpiece for a few moments.

"See, you're problem there mate," he began, "is instead of more fire, you've got a fuck load of bricks."

"_I know!"_ yelled Harry. "I figured that when my head smashed into them!"

"Did you do the spell wrong?" asked Terry, standing up and folding his arms thoughtfully.

"No," said Harry, a little less violently. "No I got it, I know I did."

"Then why wouldn't it open up to your parents' house?" said Parvati slowly. She and Terry looked at each other, her eyes wide. Once again Hermione bit her tongue so as not to say what she was thinking, but the other girl said it for her. "What...what if there's something wrong?"

"They only left a couple of hours ago," said Harry, hastily getting up. "What could have happened in a couple of hours?" Hermione tapped her heal nervously on the floor and stared at a crack in the fireplace. Plenty – that's what could happen in a couple of hours.

"I'm sure they're fine," said Terry, dismissing the thought as if it was obvious. "The town's probably got some protection put on it – you know how they love to do those twenty four hour alert things – makes the Ministry look as if they're actually doing something."

Parvati bit her lip and nobody said anything for a while. Harry began to pace. "I guess I could send an owl...kind of want to talk to them now though," he said to no one in particular. They all looked anywhere except at each other, waiting for Harry, or anyone, to make a decision. What were they going to do now?

He suddenly stopped and looked at Hermione. "You brought him back."

"Sorry?"

"Him, the other...me."

She pulled at a lock of her silky, straight hair. The change of topic made her somewhat uneasy. "Yes, last year we brought him home."

"How?" asked Terry.

"We sent an enchanted letter, but it was complicated-"

"You did it though," said the black haired boy. "So you can do it again – we can't talk to my parents, so let's get Sarah back ourselves."

"No," said Hermione, "no when I say complicated I mean _really _complicated. Professors Dumbledore and Flitwick both gave us loads of help, and some of the ingredients are extremely rare."

"I suggest we start in the potions cupboard then."

"Harry what are you doing?" cried Parvati. "This is exactly what you just promised wouldn't happen! You said you just wanted to talk to your family-"

"Which I now can't do so I'm thinking of something else," Harry cried back. She shook her head vigorously.

"Not by taking things into your own hands though! That's what _he_ did! Do you want someone to die again?"

Things went still in the room as Harry looked quite shocked. Not as shocked as Hermione though – she'd just seem a glimmer of the friend she'd known for years, and she wasn't going to let it get frightened away.

"No – Harry's right, we have to do something," she said, "even if it's just talking to Dumbledore, we can't just sit here."

"_What the Hell do you know?" _snarled Parvati. "When's the last time you picked up a sword, saw somebody die?"

Hermione slowly folded her arms across her chest.

"Last week."

If the room was still before it became utterly frozen now. Hermione tried to push the image of Draco's mother giving her life for his to the back of her mind, and focus instead on the girl in front of her. She knew they were very different and never really had anything in common, but right now the only thing she felt for Parvati Patel was hate. Who was she to hold Harry back from rescuing his sister, to whisper poison in his ear about her and sow seeds of doubt in his already strained mind?

"Right," said Terry Boot, physically stepping between the two girls. "So we've all seen a lot of crap, let's not turn it into a pissing competition. We've got two problems and this isn't solving either of them."

"What's happened to my parents and how to get my sister back," said Harry darkly.

"Yes, exactly," agreed Terry, "exactly. So let's stop yelling at each other and go ask Dumbledore if he knows anything – hmm?"

Hermione looked at the two boys, but purposely not at Parvati. She felt a bit ashamed at letting her underlying panic get the better of her again, but to be fair all she really wanted was to help, it was Parvati who was making things worse. She cleared her throat.

"You're right," she said a little firmer than she meant to. "Let's go find Dumbledore."

xxx

Harry Potter stared fixatedly at the blank and crumbling book spines. This made no sense.

He'd been having a nice, normal argument with Ron and Hermione in the Great Hall about the advantages and disadvantages of listening to books that gave you advice (beyond the text), and the next thing he knew he was conversing with doddery old librarians and versions of his friends form worlds far beyond his own in a library they apparently had conjured from their own subconscious'.

That was unfair. The librarian wasn't doddery.

Harry moved a few steps forward, still peering at the books. All the labels on the shelves were faded and useless; it seemed the antipathy of libraries he'd been spoilt with the past few years, namely the one at Hogwarts.

Hogwarts. Somewhere, in place ever so slightly more tangible than this one, there was a Harry who had woken up in that Great Hall and carried on that conversation with Ron and Hermione, in one form or another. He hoped 'Hey, I've just hopped in from an alternate reality' wasn't his opening gambit.

He couldn't believe he'd conjured such a useless place from his imagination. Who'd think up a library where you couldn't read the book titles? He pulled one off the shelf and let it fall open; the writing was totally incomprehensible. Maybe it was Malfoy? He'd got here first, maybe he was playing a joke?

Some joke. He pulled another text out and opened it with much the same result – nothing. There had to be something here that helped them get home, there just had to be. The librarian though had said there was no index system as such, so Harry had decided to try pot luck and wonder the isles. That had been an hour ago.

He sighed. The others were back in the central well where they'd woken up, but it was getting too crowded for Harry's liking. It appeared that after their arrival prompted this place to pop into existence, other people magically trapped in limbo for whatever reason were finding their form again. After that little French girl had come an old Chinese wizard who yelled at them all and waved his knobbly walking stick menacingly until the librarian had escorted him elsewhere. After a Spanish sorceress showed up with an equally fiery temper Harry felt it best to move elsewhere for the benefit of his already fraying nerves.

How many other worlds could there possibly be? He wondered after picking out a large green volume with strange illustrations of wizards juggling geese. The librarian had said their worlds weren't all that dissimilar; mainly single events had caused them to fracture off along different paths in their recent pasts. But surely that meant for every single eventuality, for every single yes and no, do or don't there was a different universe. That was almost too big to comprehend.

And now the barriers between worlds were weakening, as all of them were from four completely different worlds. What were their counterparts doing in their places? What kind of a Harry had he been replaced by?

"Hello?"

Oh great some other randomer had woken up in the library. They sounded very far away.

"Hello?" Harry called back. He wondered what had happened to this guy – the librarian had said all these people came from one of the four realities but for all kinds of reasons. The Spanish woman had lost a bet with some kind of Demi-God, and the Chinese bloke had fallen prey to a warped curse by his money hungry grandson.

"Where am I?" came the man's faint voice.

Where to start? thought Harry. "Er...it's like a kind of limbo – follow my voice, I can explain."

"Okay." There was quite for a moment. "Am I closer?"

"A bit," said Harry, "keep going."

"So," the man carried on, "you said Limbo?" He paused for a good ten seconds. "Does that mean I'm dead?"

Urgh what a question. "Um, well kind of," Harry offered, "but not really. It's complicated." He thought a moment. "What was the last thing you remember?"

"Dunno." He sounded closer now. "I was...there were other people, I think I was fighting with someone."

"Oh...maybe you got hit with a curse, that's what happened to one of the other guys here." Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up into the blackness beyond the shelves as he spoke. The smell of burning wood was stronger here, he didn't fancy staying much longer.

"Are you dead too then?" asked the guy. What was with the questions? I guess he's freaking out, Harry reasoned fairly.

"Erm...no. It's complicated," he said again. "I...some other version of myself travelled from another universe and took my place."

"Bloody Hell that is complicated." The man was a lot closer now; there was something about his voice Harry couldn't place.

"I'm sorry you're dead though," said Harry, realising afterwards just how lame it sounded.

"Oh that's okay," the man replied. "My life wasn't exactly all song and dance, who knows, my death might be better!"

Harry laughed and went to say something, something like 'that's the way to look at it' or 'sorry you didn't have a great life' but the words died in his throat. Because the man stumbled round the dark corner of the isle and ran his hair through black hair and grinned. Then frowned. This man with the tough life, the one who died in a fight with someone not too long ago walked forward into the light and his face turned to surprise. Harry stared. The librarian had said people were arriving from their own universes.

"Sirius?"


	3. Bad Timing

Chapter Three -

Bad Timing

Ron leant his head on his arm and let the wind whip his hair back as the car sped down the highway. He wasn't sure how long they'd been driving but the sun had gone down and was thinking of coming back up again. There was nothing out the window to look at half the time, just fields of grass or corn. Sometimes they would pass signs to towns, but the most life they saw was other drivers, staring blankly ahead or singing along to the radio, unaware anyone could witness the performance.

A.J. was at the wheel now, Chris was fast asleep in the passenger seat snoring with his mouth hanging open. They'd only just got him to turn the rock music off. Ron squirmed on the leather seat and clutched at the cap in his free hand; he wasn't sure how much further they had to go but he hoped it wouldn't be long, he couldn't cope with his own thoughts any more.

What if no one could help him and he was stuck here? What if they didn't _want _to help him? What if they couldn't find the school? What if Harry and Hermione sent him a letter to pull him back and it popped up at the strange house and he wasn't there to claim it so his mother-who-wasn't-his-mother threw it away? What if he lead this Voldemort to this Weasley family and he killed them all?

Too many questions. He started thinking about food instead. They'd stopped off at a place with a large glowing 'M' out the front and bought the most amazing tasting chips and burgers, but that was hours ago now and Ron's stomach was growling again. He wished Chris was awake, he was so much more friendly than A.J. who was still being very frosty to him. Really, it wasn't his fault the boy didn't believe him, thought Ron; nobody asked him to come, he shouldn't have bothered. He tried to think of the best way possible to ask the question.

"Are you hungry A.J., you've been driving for ages?"

"I've only been driving forty minutes," he replied without taking his eyes off the road. That wasn't the response Ron had been hoping for.

"Oh," he said slightly deflated and looked back out the window. His arm was going numb from leaning on it but he couldn't be bothered to move. "I just thought you might like to stop for a bit."

A.J. sighed. "If _you're _hungry why don't you just magic some food out of thin air," he said slightly scornfully. Ron sat up at this.

"You can't just make food appear out of nothing," he said equally scornfully. He was remembering something Hermione had drilled into him. "I was only trying to be nice."

"Whatever," said A.J. and focused back on the road.

They managed not to talk again until Chris woke up a few hours later, and A.J. conceded to stop for breakfast at a diner off a dingy, otherwise unlandmarked motorway. It was a good job Bill had given him some Muggle money because Ron was starving and he got three different dishes, one of which was thick pancakes covered in a sweet sauce. Brilliant.

"I think we're nearly there," said Chris brightly through a mouthful of eggs. He pushed the map he'd been studying into the middle of the red plastic table so the other two could see, and took a swig of a dark brown bubbly drink he'd got in a pint glass. There was no one else in the place apart from a large man whose head seemed to consist of no more than beard and cap, and a bored looking waitress who was far more interested in her magazine than serving coffee.

"We're here," he said pointing to one of the squiggly lines. "And Salem is here – it should only be like an hour tops."

"But then we have to find the school, and Bill said it was magically hidden." A.J. frowned and sipped his coffee. Ron frowned too, his negativity was really getting to him.

"What Bill _actually _said was that it was a 'unplotable gated community' off of this road here." He didn't know what 'gated community' meant but he jabbed his finger at the map determinedly anyway. "We just have to park up and get through the gates somehow." He didn't like to admit how worried he was about that; he remembered just how tricky the gates at Hogwarts were and he knew the right places to tickle them and everything.

"No worries," said Chris grinning. He didn't seem to notice the tense atmosphere being generated by his friend, either that or he was ignoring it. He shoved the last of his breakfast into his mouth and rubbed his hands together. "Let's do it!"

They threw some of the strange Muggle money onto the shiny red table, then stretched their legs in the empty car park one last time before scrambling back into the old car. Chris was driving again and he selected a track called 'Highway To Hell' before firing up the engine. Ron felt this was an ominous move at best.

It did only take them about an hour to find the Massachusetts town, but once there it took them ages to find the right stretch of road with the magic gates on. By about eleven o'clock they were parked up by a likely candidate opposite a large woodland area. They forced their stiff legs to exit the burgundy car once again and breathed in the warm air; Ron heard thunder rumble again and wondered if this storm was ever going to break.

"I still can't really see them," said A.J. again and Ron sighed.

"Trust me they're there" he replied, "it's just coz you're a Muggle and you're not supposed to be looking for them."

Chris tilted his whole body over so he was standing on one leg then twisted his head. "Yeah I can kind of see it," he said, squinting.

Ron walked up to the gate and rested his hands on the hot wooden panels. It was rounded off at the top and stood alone by the side of the road – he'd expected a fence to be accompanying it but there was nothing. He looked up at the circular seal painted in the middle of the doors about two thirds of the way up. If they could get them open the seal would then split into two as it opened, halving the magnificent eagle at the centre.

Even though he knew it wouldn't do anything he pushed at the doors. He was right, nothing. He got out his wand and whispered "Alohamora," but still nothing. He stood back at looked up again, before stepping forwards and tapping his wand gently on the wood. "Open Sesame?" he tried weakly. Zip.

He turned left and tried to walk around the gate, but as expected he hit an invisible barrier and could go no further. Bugger.

"What in the name of Hell do you think you're doin'?" came a loud voice from behind them. The three boys spun around to see a girl about their age emerging from the woods. Her curly blond hair shimmered in the sunlight and Ron thought her accent was even stronger than the ones he'd heard so far. "This here's private property and none of your damn business!"

She walked slowly up to them hands on hips; she had a large bag over her shoulder but didn't seem to be noticing it much. Her outfit was slightly unusual, it was a matching purple skirt and sleeveless top with black and silver lines around the edges. The word 'Fireflies' was emblazoned across her chest.

"I ain't playing – y'all better scoot before you get in big trouble." She came to a halt in front of Ron and he looked to the others for support.

"We don't want any trouble," said A.J. quickly and Chris nodded.

"No – no trouble!"

"We just want to get into the school," said Ron, who had decided a direct approach would be the best. "We need some help."

The girl went to take her hands off her hips then thought about it. She pursed her lips.

"What school?" she said after a moment.

"The Salem Academy of Magic," said Ron quickly. "We just want some help – honestly." But the girl shook her head defiantly.

"Uh uh, there ain't no school here."

"Well what are you doing here then?" asked Chris. She looked between them and folded her arms.

"I'm...I'm just..." she tapped her trainer on the ground. "Catchin' a bus," she finished, quite pleased with herself.

"Where's the bus stop?" said A.J. and the girl scowled at him.

"It's down the road, dumb ass."

Ron threw up his hands. "Seriously, we've been driving for hours, we know this is the school and we just need to talk to somebody."

"About what?" the girl snapped.

"About the fact I've just travelled from another reality where I'm a wizard and I go to school at Hogwarts, but now I'm here in my body but it's a different body in a different country and I'm tired and confused and I just want somebody to help me get back home with a spell or a potion or maybe even a dimensional hotspot – at this point I'm really not fussy which."

Ron took a deep breath as the blond girl stared. "Say what?"

"I'm a wizard," said Ron, as he was very sure this girl was a witch. "I accidently came from an alternate reality – it seems to be happening quite a bit to my friends over the last year but it's the first time it's happened to me. So now I want to ask one of the teachers here to help me," he jerked a finger at the closed gates. He explained how his family here had abandoned their magic lives because of You-Know-Who, so rather than going to his own school he'd had to find his way here.

"With our help!" added Chris cheerfully. "We're Muddles."

"Muggles," corrected the girl, then looked very cross at herself and folded her arms. "So, you're a wizard – prove it."

Ron sighed. He didn't like the idea of doing tricks like some kind of house elf, but it was probably necessary. So he pulled out Bill's wand and conjured up a little flock of birds like Hermione had showed him. Chris was very impressed by this, A.J. scowled and tried to look for the secret bird compartment he reasoned Ron must have had up his sleeve, and the girl relaxed a little bit.

"Okay...so you're a wizard...from Britain. And now you want us to help you?"

"Yes! Sort of," said Ron to the blond girl. Her skin was so brown compared to his own and seemed to be glowing in the golden sunlight.

"And the Muggles?" She said, unconvinced. "You know they can't come inside?"

"Why not?" cried A.J. indignantly. "You dragged us this far, we're not going to wait in the car like a pair of Springer spaniels."

"We wanna see the magic school!" chimed in Chris.

"I just don't want to get sun stroke," muttered A.J.

Ron shrugged. "They're the other me's best friends. They offered to help."

"Sort of," added A.J. still scowling. Ron was just about to snap at him to go sit in the _boot _of the car when a silvery racoon came shooting up to them.

"Abigail Princeton just what do you mean doing magic outside of school grounds?! Why are you outside of school grounds, and who on Earth are these people with you?!" The woman's voice rang out clearly against the still warm air on the road. The girl, Abigail, looked slightly horror stricken from the Patronus to the three boys.

"It weren't me Madam Crabapple! This here boy says he's a wizard landed from an alternate reality – I was makin' him prove it!" She threw them a shifty look and spoke behind her hand in a not too quiet whisper. "Plus I thought they might be spies so I was pretendin' like there weren't no school."

The racoon sat up on her hind legs and took in the three boys. "You are wizards?" she asked.

"Just me," piped up Ron. "My friends were doing a spell, at Hogwarts, and I think it must have gone wrong cuz now I'm in a parallel universe and I really need some help."

"I see," said the Patronus. Ron would have thought she'd have more to say to such an outrageous statement, but she just sat and looked at the boys.

"Very well, you may enter. Abigail, please bring them straight to me."

"But, they're Muggles and I got practice and-!" started Abigail, but one look from the animal and she became quite.

"They are our guests and will be treated as such, understood Miss Princeton?"

"Yes ma'am." The racoon disappeared as quickly as it had come.

She threw a dirty look at the boys and shifted the weight of her bag. "I hope you appreciate my coach is gonna tear me a new one for being late." She stormed up to the gate and pressed her palm to the wood. Slowly it creaked open, swinging its doors backwards.

"How'd you do that?" cried Ron indignant. He was sure he'd pushed a great deal harder than she had.

"Like I'm gonna tell you," she replied with more than a hint of smugness.

They trudged up along a long gravelled pathway; their feet crunching on the little white stones was the only sound they made.

"I can't believe she's letting you in," muttered the girl Abigail to no one in particular. "This is gonna end in tears."

"Hey, we didn't ask for this," said A.J. loudly. "We're just trying to do the right thing and sort our friend out."

"You make it sound like I need fixing," said Ron sulkily.

"Don't you?"

"All right quit your hollerin'," snapped Abigail. "Fact is no Muggles are allowed in, heck they normally can't even find the road it's on – safer for everyone like that." She shifted her heavy looking bag and scuffed a white stone with her white trainer. "But if Madame Crabapple thinks you should come in then that's what's gonna happen. Let's just keep it quick so I can catch the tail end of training."

Gradually buildings started to appear in the distance that got larger and larger, and a low buzz of noise seemed to accompany them. They eventually arrived at another set of gates, but this one had an actual wall running alongside it, about three metres high so they couldn't see over it but the buildings were still visible.

Once again the girl Abigail put her hand onto the wood; this time Ron noticed a sort of glowing coming from beneath her palm before the doors swung open, and the noise went from a buzz to full blown din. The path continued up ahead of them, and either side of it were buildings two or three stories high. They were all white with wooden shutters and porches, and in between them all grew luscious green grass. Each building had several of the boxes on sticks planted crookedly outside, and some of the porches had benches on swings or big rocking chairs. But Ron barely saw any of this.

Everywhere the three boys looked there were students. Running from building to building, hanging out of windows chatting, sitting in clusters eating sandwiches. Owls flew above their heads as a group of boys threw an orange disk between them, hollering friendly abuse at one another. Beautiful trees with fat trunks and leaves bigger than your hands waved merrily in the passing zephyrs in a welcoming sort of way. There were even students hanging from them, or resting under their cool shade.

"They're all wearing the same thing," said Chris as children of all ages made their way around them whilst they walked through. Some turned their heads to look but most carried on with their own business. And he was right; they all had cloaks fastened with large silver buckles, shorter than the Hogwarts ones, and they fell over their shoulders rather than behind their backs. Everyone wore black trousers or skirts, hob-nailed boots, short pointy hats that were far more rigid looking than the Hogwarts dress ones and a good deal shorter too.

"It's called a uniform," said A.J. "What do you reckon those buildings are?"

"They're dorms stupid," snapped Abigail from her position up ahead. "Now get a move on." A Chinese girl in the same purple uniform as Abigail's came running up to her.

"Abbey! Abbey!" She came to a halt and caught her breath. "You coming to practice – I thought I was late!" Abbey turned and looked at the three boys who had also come to a stop behind her. She handed over her bag to the other girl.

"I'm gonna be _real _late. Would you mind takin' my stuff an' I'll be with y'all when I can?" The other girl couldn't hold the bag quite as easily as Abbey, but she was more interested in eyeing up the new comers.

"Sure thing," she said distractedly. "I'll see if I can stall for you." She ran off and they group started walking once again.

Chris looked at A.J. then jogged up to fall in pace with Abbey. "Are you...a _cheerleader? _ A witch cheerleader?" She turned and looked him up and down then folded her arms.

"Yeah, and we got a big match this weekend for which I will now look like a total ass."

"A witch cheerleader," said Chris again, turning to look back at the other two boys. "I think that's the most amazing thing I've ever heard."

xxx

Hermione looked woefully into the depths of the school's potions cupboard. How could they possibly teach N.E. with what was standing before her?

She bit her lip and carried on looking. There were undoubtedly half a dozen ingredients missing for the spell they were hoping to cast, even some of the more basic supplies were absent. Say what you like about Snape, she thought, at least he knew how to keep a respectable stock.

"Well?" Harry was waiting impatiently next to Parvati Patil; both had their arms crossed. She shifted her weight on the chair she was standing and looked guiltily downwards. Why was nothing ever simple? She sighed and poked about a few more bottles.

"It's not looking great."

"Meaning?" Hermione really wished Parvati was absent too.

"Meaning we've barely got enough to whip up a basic sleeping draught, let alone anything out of _Moste Potent Potions_." She went to step off her perch but lost her balance on her heals once again. Before she could crash to the floor Terry Boot grabbed her flailing hands and helped her step down. "Thanks," she muttered, but Terry just smiled and put his own hands back in his pockets.

"What do we do now then?" demanded Harry.

"I don't know," snapped Hermione, "it's not my fault your school's not properly equipped."

"Oh I'm sure your school's just full of the most wonderful things to steal," cried Parvati.

"Girls," said Terry, stepping between the two and raising his arms. "Either we crack out the feather pillows and custard, or we just go talk to Dumbledore." He regarded their blank stares. "Because I'm fucking sick of the bickering."

"Terry-"

"Uh uh! That includes you Miss Ziggy Potter, we go ask Dumbledore what to do, or we go back to the library and mope. It's either or."

Harry looked sulky. "I just want to get my sister back."

"Yes," conceded Terry, "that's what we all want. But being downright rude to Hermione for something she didn't do isn't getting us anywhere." He turned to look at Hermione. "And I'm sorry there aren't the ingredients you needed but the school has only been open a week. We'll find another way."

Hermione looked at the floor. She was ashamed she kept losing her rag but she was feeling so out of control it was hard to keep a grip. Not to mention she was developing a cracking headache. She blinked back tears and raised her head; at least Harry and Parvati were looking sheepish too.

"Sorry Terry, and, you know...you guys." She nodded and tried to smile. "Let's go find Dumbledore."

They made their way up to the headmaster's office, and Harry gave the password ("Liquorice Wands"). The grand eagle moved aside and they stepped onto the spiral staircase gently moving upwards. "I hope he's in," said Parvati absently. They reached the top and gathered by the large wooden door.

Parvati shrugged and banged on the door. "Professor Dumbledore?" After a moment they heard a faint "come in", so they did. Hermione had only been in the office a few times, but it looked just how she remembered it. Multiple gadgets were spinning and humming, all the former heads were dozing in their frames, except a middle aged witch with a pointed face and hat to match. Fawkes the phoenix was perched happily on his stand, and he watched the four sixth years enter. Dumbledore peered over his glasses, as did the witch in the portrait.

"Harry," he said warmly. "It is a pleasure to see you, all of you. Please, come in, come in." He gestured for them to come forward and they stepped a few more paces into the room. "How can I be of service?"

Harry looked hesitantly at his companions, and Hermione was unsure for a moment if he wanted her to take the lead. But he turned and addressed the headmaster with surprising confidence. "Sir, I tried to reach my parents in Godric's Hollow, but I can't get through. It's important."

Dumbledore laced his long fingers together and leant his elbows on the table. "I see," he said evenly. There was a pause. Harry looked back again once more at the others, uncertain of what to say.

"We – we tried to contact them through the fire, but it was blocked, we didn't know if the town had been blocked by the Ministry or something – you know, temporarily – or something."

Dumbledore seemed to think before he spoke. "There is no blockade that I'm aware of." Hermione's heart sank.

"Oh," said Harry. "Well I guess it's good we know that, at least..." He scuffed his foot on the carpet.

Hermione had enough – where was the passion and fight that she'd come to see as the epitome of her friend's character?

"Professor Dumbledore," she said pushing her way forward. "We think we might know where Sarah Potter is, Harry's sister. We wanted to tell his parents, isn't there a way you can think of we could contact them?" The old teacher's bright eyes became very still as they fixed on Hermione.

"Yes, I think that would be something they would be very interested to hear Miss Granger." He blinked and continued his stare at the young Gryffindor. "Very interested indeed."

Hermione became nervous. Maybe this was too big to tackle by themselves, maybe they should tell the headmaster everything and leave the teachers to it.

Terry stepped forward. "Hermione thinks Sarah is in a...pretty inaccessible place," he explained a little further. "She has a spell to bring her back but half the ingredients are missing from..." he stopped himself before he said "the teachers' store cupboard" and coughed a little to try and mask his sudden silence. Still Dumbledore concentrated his gaze on Hermione. Harry (her Harry) always theorised Professor Snape could read minds, and she was starting to suspect something similar of Dumbledore.

"You see, _Hermione_ thinks," began Parvati, her tone not far off from patronising. "Hermione thinks that Sarah is-"

"Godric's Hollow," interrupted Dumbledore. Harry's face lit up.

"She's at Godric's Hollow!"

Dumbledore drummed his fingers together. "No Harry," he said pleasantly. "It just struck me that your parents' house in Godric's Hollow has an excellent supply of even the rarest of ingredients." He stood up and walked round the table to face them all. "It seems to me that the best course of action would be for you and your companions to travel to the village and relay your message in person, whilst taking advantage of the plethora of materials at your disposal."

"But," stammered Parvati. "I thought – we thought you were going to-"

"Oh it seems to me you have the matter well in hand," Dumbledore interrupted once again. He beamed at his students. "I would think it prudent though to get moving as soon as possible. I find it is very rare indeed that time is not of the essence."

xxx

Draco stared frustratedly at the book in his hands. Nothing was ever simple. He'd geared himself up, been mentally prepared – there'd been a kiss and everything, you didn't have a kiss unless it really meant something. It wasn't fair.

He sighed and flicked the page. What was the point? Nothing they did mattered. Fate was obviously going to do whatever the Hell she wanted and laugh in their faces as they scrambled around trying to fix it. He sighed again.

Moping would not get them anywhere, he knew that but he was struggling to surface from his reverie. He felt like a grain of sand being bashed on the shore.

"Pass me that jar," said Ginny Weasley. Draco blinked but it was a moment before he realised she wasn't talking to him.

A few hours previous, he and Sarah (with the other three unfortunately in tow) had explained the situation to Flitwick, who had in turn consulted Dumbledore and then Snape. This meant Ginny, Seamus and Dean were now aware of the 'alternate reality' nature of the problem, but Draco wasn't sure they were a hundred percent convinced. Ginny kept tutting and Dean's eyebrows had been knitted in confusion for the last half hour; he would attempt to ask a question but loose it in his throat and return to the cauldron he'd been charged with stirring. He passed Ginny a jar of purple-green leaves and carried on quietly with his task.

Seamus flicked through his own book. He was sat at the desk Draco was currently perched on. "I still don't understand how it actually travels through to another reality," said the Irish boy absently, flicking another page.

They were in one of the charms classrooms where the three teachers had left them to consult in private. Luckily the ingredients necessary for the spell to bring Harry and the others back had been in stock, and they had each been assigned a job to help speed up the process. They were almost ready to charm the letter once again to pull back Harry, Ron and Hermione, and then try a second attempt at sending Draco and Sarah home. That required a lot more ingredients but they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

Draco was somewhat working on autopilot, he didn't want to get excited about seeing Harry again when he would have to leave right away; for real this time.

"So," said Dean after his long silence. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "You're not Malfoy?"

Draco gripped the book in his hands tightly, then relaxed. It's just a word, he told himself. "I am still Draco Malfoy," he said, not looking up. "But I have had different experiences to the Draco of this world, and am therefore vastly different in personality, by all accounts." I am now, he thought to himself. I bet we weren't all that different a few years ago.

"Is it like, another you high jacking his body then?" asked Seamus, any excuse to take a break from the hefty volume he'd been studying. Ginny threw the leaves she'd been chopping into the cauldron and looked up the next ingredient. Although she was watching the others she said nothing.

"I guess so," replied Draco. "This definitely isn't my body – I've got some scars he doesn't." He looked at the clean forearm where a dark mark should have been branded, a constant reminder of a life he hoped never to lead again.

"But," Dean was thinking again. "Where have you come from, physically? I mean, how can two realities run side by side?"

"There's probably more than two," said Sarah, looking up from the new letter she was carefully writing. "Sirius said there was millions and millions."

"Who cares how many there are, as long as we get everyone back," said Ginny solemnly. This time she did not look up and remained focused on the peacock feathers she was carefully shredding.

Draco went back to his book; it had several vague references to Hotspots in the history of Hogwarts. Mainly talk of people 'travelling a great distance from a single spot' and 'wonderers never to be heard of again.' It was in Medieval French though, so Draco was probably not giving it the level of concentration it deserved.

Ginny snatched over a tiny set of scales and carefully weighed out her feathers whilst Dean kept on stirring methodically. Seamus tapped his fingers on the book page. "Is this place very different then?" He was addressing both of them but Draco still didn't feel like answering.

"Yeah," Sarah conceded, and smudged some black ink on her forehead as she thought. "Pretty much everything's different. Well for me anyway – I was never even born here." She twiddled with the feather quill she was holding. "Which pretty much all round sucks."

"Okay," Dean persisted. He obviously wasn't happy with the answers he was getting. Draco turned another page; he didn't like being interrogated at the best of times, which, come to think of it, was never.

"But where have Harry and that gone to?" Dean carried on. "I know you keep saying 'Alternate Reality' and 'Parallel Universe,' but I mean, what does that even mean? Where actually, physically-"

"Nowhere!" snapped Ginny suddenly, banging her knife down onto the chopping board. "They're nowhere Dean, they don't exist anymore!" Tears welled in her eyes and she picked up her knife and began stubbornly chopping again. Dean looked guiltily over at Draco and back again.

"What-?"

"They might as well be dead!" she cried; the feathers under her fingers were almost turned to mulch by now. "All of them – Ron, Harry – they have no physical place in this entire world unless we find them..." She stopped chopping and gritted her teeth to hold back the tears. Dean put down the ladle and went over to his girlfriend, putting an arm around her.

"I'm sorry sweetie," he said quietly as she turned and excepted the hug. "We'll get them back."

"And we're still here after all," said Sarah matter-of-factly. "We still exist, and we're going home. Everything will be fine."

"Hmm," said Draco, non-committedly. Everything was supposed to be fine last time, and that didn't exactly turn out as planned.

They carried on working; any talking after that generally skirted around the issue at hand and stuck to safer subjects like Quidditch. Draco focused on conjugating his verbs and contributed little to the conversation. His head was throbbing and he was starting to feel nauseous. He reasoned that was probably normal after being unconscious for days.

The cauldron was steaming with a forest green liquid that bubbled at the edges. Ginny triple checked the instructions Snape had left them then nervously perched on the desk, twiddling her fingers, her eyes still a little red. Sarah finished the letter and came and sat by Draco, attempting to read over his shoulder. "Do you think it'll work this time?" she asked quietly. Draco looked up into her big green eyes. Despite her confidence earlier with Ginny Weasley she seemed genuinely anxious now.

"Yes," he said positively, turning back to his book. "This side of the spell is easier, we'll get them back."

He could still feel her eyes on him but he didn't look up until she spoke again a few minutes later.

"But...what about us?"

He closed his book and gave her his full attention. Despite her quiet tone the other three were very much listening in. "We'll get back too, I promise." There was a small part of him that wanted to squeeze her hand, but his resilient Malfoy upbringing quashed it. No matter what his doubts were he wouldn't help anyone by voicing them.

The classroom door opened suddenly making the students jump. Professors Dumbledore, Snape and Flitwick came marching in, Dumbledore looking far more cheery than the other two.

"Are we all set then?" he said, clapping his hands together. Ginny slid off the table she was perching, nervously putting her hands behind her back as Snape inspected the potion.

"I think so, sir." Snape looked up and gave a reluctant nod. Dumbledore looked pleased as Flitwick bustled over to give his opinion too.

"Marvellous," cried the headmaster. "Miss Potter, I wonder if I might take a look at the letter you have been so diligently scribing?" She whipped round making her long pony tail flick out and handed him the new parchment.

"Here you are, sir," she said. "I included everything you said to."

The old teacher peered over his half moon glasses, his bright blue eyes taking in Sarah's delicate hand writing. "Good," he murmured to himself. "Very good."

"Can we try the spell now then?" asked Ginny eagerly.

Snape sniffed a spoonful of the potion. "Not quite so fast Miss Weasley," he said coolly. "We wouldn't want to rush in and blow ourselves up now would we? I need to verify your...work."

Draco had always liked Snape, but never understood why he turned into such a prick around some people. There was no need for it. Ginny however seemed used to it and waited for his conclusion. He and Flitwick poured a small amount into a goblet and murmured and prodded it with their wands.

Dumbledore stood calmly with his hands behind his back, a small smile on his face. When Snape nodded he passed Sarah's letter over and the enchantment began. "I find it wonderful," he commented, "what Hogwarts students can accomplish, even under such difficult circumstances."

Draco shifted his weight. It made him slightly nervous not knowing what the teachers had discussed outside the classroom. He looked at Sarah, but her gaze was fixed solely on Snape and the parchment. He blinked his eyes and tried to blot out his headache.

After a few minutes everything was complete, and Snape handed the letter to Dumbledore. He paused, the charmed message resting in his hands. He then held it out to Draco.

"I believe you should do the honours Mr Malfoy," he said simply. Draco didn't even react to the use of his last name and looked from Dumbledore to everyone else. Ginny, Dean and Seamus looked a little shocked, but Sarah and the other teachers didn't appear put out at all. Sarah actually smiled.

Draco blinked. "But – I'm probably the least magically qualified person in this room," he said, bewildered. Dumbledore's arm remained outstretched.

"That being so, the activation spell is a simple one." He smiled and Draco slowly took the letter. "Besides, it seems rather fitting." Draco turned the parchment round and scanned over the message. Was this something they had talked about when they'd left them to do the potion?

He straightened his posture and seized the envelope from off the desk. Fine, if they wanted him to do it he would. He did knew the spell after all, they'd covered Activations at the beginning of the Second Year, and he'd used them once or twice since. The potion would, in theory, ensure the letter would follow Harry and the others wherever they had gone, his part was to just start it off. Then they could do a similar spell and find their way back; everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

He ignored all the eyes in the room focusing on him and held the wand he had been given tightly. Concentrate, he thought.

The spell ran through his fingers and travelled down the wand. He felt the parchment warm in his hand and start to tremble; a light emanated from it and although he could still feel it, it began to fade away. Please work, he thought, please find my friends.

And then it split into three.

"What?" whispered Draco as all traces of the letter vanished. For a moment, his eyes connected with Sarah's, both wide with fear and confusion. But before he could utter a word, pain exploded in his head and a wave of nausea swept over him. His knees buckled beneath him and the last thing he saw was the stone floor rushing up to meet him. And then there was nothing but black.

xxx

Harry Potter moved purposefully along the bookshelf in the library, the strange necklace still clutched in his hand. Three realities was just too much, he had to get himself home, he didn't want to talk to anyone else or find out another way his life could have been. He may not have his parents or sister where he came from but at least he had Sirius. He came across another likely volume and threw it haphazardly onto the pile he was building.

Hermione had mentioned the book they'd found the spell in before, and he knew it was harder to get yourself back than to be brought back, but he didn't care. By merely being proactive he was already feeling better, like when he'd gone to find Hermione last November. He didn't know what it would accomplish, but it sure beat sitting around and feeling sorry for himself.

He grabbed the pile he had accumulated and moved to a different section of the library. He received a few curious looks from other people but he was so used to this by now he didn't give it a second thought; there were a dozen reasons people usually had for craning their necks and staring at him, so they could just pick one and get on with it.

He threw the books back on the floor, climbed on a nearby pedestal and started searching through titles again, occasionally pulling a book out to read the back in more detail. The best looking one he found was entitled 'Time Turners, Blood Stones and other Enchanted Amulets.' He was certain the necklace Alex had given him had something to do with his arrival here, and if he could find out what there was a small chance it would help him home. Right now he would take any chance he could get.

After his stack had reached a satisfactory height he hefted the books up once again and found a suitably secluded table, eager to begin reading.

Gradually, all the surrounding distractions disappeared as Harry became more and more involved with his task. He was alone in the world and he liked it; he skimmed over pages, occasionally finding reference to Hotspots and Leaping, making notes as he went. The more knowledge he accumulated the better he felt, like he was really taking charge of the situation. He learnt that original Hotspots appeared at centres of high magic use, but after stepping through such a portal you could travel anywhere, the destination being specified by the traveller focusing their thoughts (consciously or otherwise, remembered Harry). Once a Hotspot had been created however it would always exist, so his first thought was to go stomping round the Great Hall, shouting to be sent back. He decided against it though.

"Hi Harry!"

He looked up from his current volume; it seemed to be in some kind of French so he was thinking of abandoning it anyway. Neville Longbottom was approaching him, accompanied by a girl he didn't know. He felt maybe he should really know a girl like that though, seeing as her blond hair was tied in bunches with what appeared to be sprigs of parsley.

"What you up to," cried the boy cheerily. Harry closed his book and tried his hardest not to look shifty.

"Oh, you know, homework and stuff," he said vaguely.

"I can't believe they're piling it on so quickly already, can you?" Neville replied, taking a seat as the girl stared happily outside the window and appeared to be lightly conducting a tune in her head. Neville looked dubiously over the titles. "Some kind of personal project?" he guessed, frowning slightly.

"Erm, yeah something like that," said Harry. "It's pretty tricky though, so I should probably just..."

"Ooh," cried Neville, suddenly excited. The girl turned her head, pulling her attention away from the large dragonfly that kept buzzing into the window. It was probably trying to get away from the storm clouds rumbling overhead. "Do you want us to help?" asked Neville in a whispered voice. "We were only coming in here to do some DA stuff anyway, you know, keep up the practice." He winked and grinned at Harry. There was a pause.

"Oh, oh yeah cool," said Harry as convincingly as he could. He had no idea what 'DA' stood for but Neville obviously assumed he did.

"But we'd be happy to help you out instead," carried on Neville, "especially if it was something extracurricular – wouldn't we Luna?"

The girl, Luna, was flicking through Harry's amulet book with one hand, twiddling a long chain of conkers hanging from her skirt with the other. She turned her bright blue eyes earnestly towards Harry. "Oh yes," she said breathlessly. "That would be lovely." She turned back to the book.

Harry was feeling a bit cornered. He really didn't want to involve anyone else or explain himself. He didn't want to put anyone in danger.

"Oh, I'm okay, really, it's not-"

"This book's quite a good one," interrupted Luna, holding it up for him to see. "Although Daddy said the chapter on Time Turners is horribly wrong – it doesn't mention troll baiting once."

Harry blinked. "Do you know about amulets?" he asked, ignoring his hesitations. Luna perched on the side of the table and rested the book on her lap. "Well, Daddy does," she said, flicking through once again. "I always try my best to remember everything he says, but he does know an awful lot."

Harry made a decision, and before he could change his mind he pulled out the necklace Alex had given him, holding it up for Luna to see. "Do you know anything about an amulet like this?"

She cocked her head and delicately held out her hand; her slim fingers looked fragile. Harry pulled the chain over his head and gave it to her to examine. "How beautiful," she remarked softly, looping the chain between her fingers to let the purple pendant swing. Her large blue eyes followed it back and forth, and Harry resisted the urge to tell her to be careful.

She swung it up and then snatched it out of the air into her fist. "I've never seen anything like it though," she said, her piercing gaze switching to Harry, and she handed back the necklace. "My logical guess would be some kind of ancient cooking implement."

Harry blinked. "Ah," was all he could muster. That hadn't been the response he'd been hoping for.

"Harry," said Neville uncertainly. He looked around to see the other boy was holding the notes he'd been making. That wasn't good. "What's this about?"

Harry took the parchment from Neville's hands a little rougher than he meant to. His plan of not getting anyone involved was slowly going out the window to join the dragonfly. "It's just my project," he said non-committedly.

"But, it's all about parallel universes and stuff," Neville persisted. "Are...are you trying to find Sirius?"

Harry opened his mouth to ask what he meant; the other Ron and Hermione had told him Sirius was dead. But he never got the chance. A tall boy with dark features came strolling around the corner, spied Harry, and with a scowl walked over.

"Potter," he said, and disdainfully threw a letter onto the desk. "Slughorn said he found this in the Great Hall and instructed me to deliver it to you."

"Slughorn?" said Harry without really knowing why – his hands trembled slightly as he picked up the letter but didn't recognise the hand writing his name was scribed in. A letter from the Hall could surely only mean one thing though?

"Yes, Slughorn," sneered the boy. "He also said to remind you not to forget our next little get-together." Harry didn't even care what that meant, he just wanted to open his letter.

The boy leant his hand on the table and bent swiftly over so his face hovered above Harry's. "I am not your owl, Potter," he said smoothly. "I suggest in future you take better care of your mail if you wish to hold onto it." He rippled his fingers on the wood, then swept off the desk and out of the library.

Harry watched him go, fingers poised to open the envelope. "Who was that?" he couldn't help but ask. Neville frowned.

"Blaise Zabini," he replied, slightly bemused.

Harry snapped his head to look at the other two. "But – Blaise is a girl!" he blurted, before realising how stupid he sounded. Neville and Luna frowned, but before they could comment Harry ripped open the letter.

"Dear Harry, Ron and Hermione,

This is Sarah Potter, I'm here with Draco Malfoy. The spell that was supposed to send us home seems to have sent you to another world instead. We hope everything's okay – if you activate this letter it will bring you back to us. We then hope to try our return journey a second time, but only once we know you are safe.

Hopefully see you soon,

Lots of love,

Sarah and Draco"

The hand holding the parchment seemed too heavy for Harry to keep holding up, and it fell with a small thud onto the desk. "But...Ron and Hermione aren't here," he croaked. Neville looked at Luna who raised her eyebrows.

"I think they're at Hagrid's hut," she said helpfully.

Harry looked from one to the other. If they hadn't travelled with him, where the Hell were they? They could be anywhere! Panic began welling up through his guts and he started to feel sick. He knew one thing though, he couldn't help them standing in the library, especially not this one.

He had to get home.

He threw the amulet back around his neck and took one last look at the notes he had made. "Thanks guys," he said to Neville and Luna. "I'm sorry I can't explain, but I have to go." He walked backwards away from them, standing alone in an isle of books.

"Go?" exclaimed Neville. "What do you mean go, go where?"

Harry looked at them and smiled. "Home."

He shot the activation spell at the letter clutched between his hands. Light fired in all directions as a roar of thunder exploded through the formerly silent library. Harry thought he heard an immense crackle of lightening roll in from outside, and the window behind him shattered. He lurched backwards, like someone had wrapped their arms around his waist then been snapped back by a bungee. He saw himself still standing there, getting smaller as he travelled into the darkness. The other Harry collapsed to the ground.

And then there was nothing.

xxx

Another boy by the name of Harry Potter stood in another library, although it was not really a library as such and as far away from Hogwarts as could possibly be.

This Harry Potter was riveted to the ground, shock and confusion holding his voice hostage somewhere between his lungs and his mouth. This Harry Potter, who had watched his Godfather murdered in a duel with Bellatrix Lestrange last summer, had watched him fall helplessly beyond the Veil and out of his life. This Harry Potter, who was very, very lost.

"Sirius?" he said again weakly.

Sirius Black looked curiously back at the young Gryffindor standing before him. He gave a relieved laugh. "Harry, blimey Harry what are you doing here?" His face suddenly dropped. "You're not dead too are you?"

The blood seemed to finally flow back into Harry's limbs and he dashed over to the older man and threw his arms around him. "I thought I'd never see you again," he said with his head buried into Sirius' worn clothes. His Godfather hugged him back, feeling very much like the parent he never got to be.

"It's okay Harry," he said convincingly. "It's alright, we'll figure something out."

Harry pulled back and looked into Sirius' eyes; the salty tears made his face feel tight and his heart was pounding. "Yes we will," he whispered. Grabbing his Godfather's hand Harry pelted back towards the centre well of the strange library, pulling Sirius along with him.

"Hold up!" he cried, but Harry pounded on, twisting though the stacks, trying to remember the way he had come.

They burst out into the open space and Sirius bent over his knees to catch his breath. "Crikey Harry I've only been dead five minutes, cut me some slack!"

"No you haven't," said Harry as Sirius stood up. "It's been months, but I'm going to fix it, it'll be okay." He ran down the stairs looking for the Librarian; the new Hermione stood up, dropping the book she'd been reading.

"That's Sirius Black," she cried, then caught Harry's arm to make him pay attention to her. "What's he doing here, did another Sirius take his place?" Harry shook his head and was about to answer, but someone else did it for him.

"This Mr Black is from the same dimension as the young Mr Potter you are currently manhandling." The Librarian was back on his ladder, leaning out of the stacks. Harry turned around to watch him descend and walk down into the well, Hermione dropped her grip and watched him too. The new Ron was lying on the sofa with his baseball cap over his eyes – apparently he'd decided the only way to make it through his current situation was to sleep though it. The Librarian swiped at his feet, batting them off the sofa arm and waking Ron up with a start. He snatched the cap off his face and blinked his eyes awake as the Librarian perched on the edge of the couch.

"This Mr Black fell though the Veil, and has been brought back into existence due to his Godson's appearance."

"What's the Veil?" asked Hermione, looking at Sirius. He was frowning with his hands on his hips, presumably struggling to remember his last moments thought Harry.

"An excuse for brilliant young minds at the British Ministry of Magic to waste their time fumbling around with the mysteries of death." The Librarian folded his arms and peered over his glasses. "Let sleeping dogs lie I say."

"Bella-bloody-trix Lestrange!" cried Sirius clicking his fingers. "I knew she was a no good treacherous whore – she's not going to know what hit her when I get my ghost self back there – _Poltergeist_ has nothing on me!"

Harry stepped forward, in front of the others facing the Librarian. "But this means he's not dead," he said eagerly. "He's here, so he's a half life?"

The Librarian unfolded his arms and placed his hands on the sofa. "You are correct," he said after a pause. "He is not dead, but no longer has a physical presence in your world either."

"So," Harry continued, picking his words carefully. "If there's some way, somehow I can get back...Sirius could come back with me?"

"Oh good God Potter give it a rest!" Draco Malfoy had been lying on the floor in between the book cases and the railings, looking up into the swirling blackness. He sat up and looked through the wooden bars, down onto the people standing in the well. "It's your fault we're all here, so stop trying to make it all better, we have to wait for someone else to get us out!"

"This isn't any of your business Malfoy," shouted Harry, pointing his finger as if that alone could curse the Slytherin boy. "I try and get myself out of my own messes."

"Yeah, and you'd know about causing a mess, can't leave anything alone can you Potty?"

"Shut up!" screamed Hermione, furious. "Not another word," she yelled at Malfoy, then turned to the Librarian. "Is that true, can Harry save his Sirius?"

The Librarian paused and stared his steely blue eyes into Harry's green ones. "It is as theoretically possible for Mr Black to get home as it is for you Mr Potter," he said evenly. "But I should warn you again the odds of the happening are extremely low-"

"I don't care," interrupted Harry, exulted. He turned to face his Godfather. "I'll bring you with me, I won't let you down."

But as the words left his mouth something strange started happening. His fingertips began to tingle, and a wave of nausea swept over him. He blinked and looked at the Librarian, who calmly stood up and folded his arms again, eyes on Harry as a look of understanding crossed his features.

"Take care Mr Potter," he said softly.

"Take care, what do you mean take care?" cried Harry. A shot of blinding pain ran through his forehead and instinctively he grabbed at his scar.

"Harry!" said Hermione as he buckled over. She seized his shoulders but it didn't stop him from falling to his knees. What was happening? His vision blurred and it seemed like the library around him was shifting, changing.

It was the Hogwarts library.

"NO!" he yelled but the world was slipping away. Lightning flashed and thunder roared, he felt the ground beneath him shake and he fell onto his side, gasping for breath. "Sirius!"

But it was hopeless, and he watched powerlessly as reality slipped into darkness, leaving him once more at the mercy of nothing.

xxx

Hermione Granger rushed down the narrow spiral staircase behind yet another Harry Potter. Terry Boot and Parvati Patil were not far behind as they spilled back out into the corridor and Harry began pacing.

"What the Hell is he thinking?" exclaimed Parvati to no one in particular, thrusting her hands on her hips. "What kind of help was that? None! That's what – does nobody take this seriously? Something needs to be done!"

Harry stopped pacing and looked at her. Then without a word he dashed off down the corridor.

"Hey wait!" yelled Terry as they took chase after him. He didn't even pause as they flew up a wide set of stairs and around the corner, straight through the Bloody Barron giving Hermione the sensation that she'd just run through an icy cold shower.

"Harry – slow down!" cried Parvati, but the boy didn't stop until they were once again outside Professor McGonagall's office. "What," she gasped, "has gotten into you?"

Harry put his hands on his hips and sucked a deep breath through his nose. "I'm going to do what Dumbledore told me to," he said. "I'm going to use McGonagall's fireplace and Floo as close as I can to Godric's Hollow." He raised his fist to bang on the door.

"WHAT?" yelled Parvati. "Have you completely gone insane?!"

Harry lowered his fist and looked at her. Hermione watched on dumbstruck; it was as if the Harry she knew was fighting to find his way out of this selfish shell he'd been trapped in.

"Dumbledore told me to – I don't know why, but I do know my sister and possibly my parents are in trouble and if he wants me to do something about it I guess I have to."

"Harry please," she pleaded as he raised his fist once again. "It's not our place, we could get hurt, or worse!"

"Dumbledore rather clearly stated it is our place actually," piped up Terry, turning to look at Harry. "So I'm coming with you."

"Me too," added Hermione quickly. Harry opened his mouth as if to say something to her, but closed it again with a nod. He looked at Parvati.

"You don't have to come – I understand," he said kindly.

Parvati glared at him. "Oh the Hell I don't," she snapped as she stepped forward and banged on the oak door herself. "Merlin only knows what trouble you'll get yourself into if I don't." She shook a finger in his face. "But I want you crystal clear Harry James Potter that I think this is the stupidest thing you have ever done."

"Agreed," said Harry with a faint smile.

McGonagall yanked open the door and regarded the four students. "You again," she said a little surprised. Harry spun around.

"Professor," he breathed. "Dumbledore told us to Floo somewhere, can we please use your fireplace and powder?"

She pursed her lips and looked at them for a moment. She then leant inside her office and spoke to a portrait of a young girl on the wall beside her. "Please verify this for me," she asked, and the girl scampered out of her frame. They waited a few minutes for her return, and Hermione crossed her arms in front of her body. This was all a bit much, not only was she in an entirely wrong dimension, but everything was spiralling out of control. What had happened to this Harry's parents? Dumbledore seemed to want to push him to find out himself – that wasn't particularly out of character for him to want students to do things by themselves, but was this really the time? They were in serious trouble. Maybe she should have told him about where she was really from?

The little girl came bobbing back into her frame and nodded her head. It was all McGonagall needed to usher the students in. Harry smiled in thanks before running to grab some of the pink glittery powder from a top the mantelpiece. "Follow me," he said to the others as he stepped into the archway. "Hathaway Heath," he cried and threw the powder to the ground. With a spin he was gone.

Parvati jumped in next, but Terry let Hermione go first. She carefully stepped onto the cold embers and held the powder tightly so none of it could escape before she was good and ready. Taking a deep breath she chucked the fine substance to her feet and said "Hathaway Heath," in a clear, loud voice. She spun around and flew by dozens of fireplaces, anxious to get out at the right one. She felt the familiar pull and let herself go through the opening that spun up next. She managed to stumble out without falling over to face a waiting Harry and Parvati. They were in one of those public Floo stations and the guard nodded his head at her before returning to his paper. "Where are we?" she asked as Terry skipped neatly out to stand beside her.

"The town closest to Godric's Hollow," Harry replied as they walked out the glass door and into a Muggle high street. It was only a small street with a few shops and the odd pub. The businesses were closed now and the sun was setting bringing a chill to the air, but there was still a fair few people milling about. They set off down the road. "There's a bus we can take."

"Oh sod that for a game of soldiers," said Terry and swerved down a deserted side alley way. He walked along checking out the cars as the rest of the group followed. "That'll take forever, we're here now, we might as well get going. Besides," he added as he pulled out his wand from his pocket and scouted up and down the street. "I haven't got any Muggle money on me." He jammed the wand down in between the window and the door of the car he was standing beside and wiggled it about with some force. The door popped open.

"Are you stealing a car?" asked Hermione, barely able to believe what she was seeing. "I know we're not allowed to do magic outside of school but this is ridiculous!"

Terry winked as he unlocked the passenger door and Parvati scooted in, followed by Harry. "I'll bring it back, I promise." He held up his hand in a boy scout salute. Hermione huffed but it seemed there was little she could do. As he bent over to hot wire the car she grumpily walked round to get in herself. This was not a good start.

The engine roared to life and Terry looked very proud of himself. "Right," he said. "Let's do this."

xxx

Ron watched Abbey as they marched across the main street of the school complex and headed towards the large building looming ahead of them. Its structure was the same as the smaller accommodation buildings, but it was entirely white with black wooden shutters and pillars that rose all the way from the ground to the triangular roof. The same eagle seal that adorned the front door hung in the centre of the triangular peak, giving the structure an authoritative feel. As they stepped into the immense shadow the building was casting Ron felt the cool wash over him. He'd never experienced heat like this.

Abbey threw her weight against the heavy looking double doors and swung them open. She was quite a curvy girl, though obviously athletic, and her golden arms were covered in several nasty bruises. She turned round and spotted Ron looking at her, and he felt the heat rise up his neck in embarrassment. Abbey merely huffed and stomped off into the complex.

"Whoa," said Chris as they stepped inside. They found themselves in a very large entrance hall with equally grand windows casting pools of bright light on the white marbled floor. There was a calm, airy feeling to the building; a grandfather clock chimed one o'clock in the corner.

"Hey," called Abbey from halfway up the sweeping staircase. "I ain't got all day you know!"

Ron, Chris and A.J. rushed across the marble and up the steps to follow her. She marched upwards, calling over her shoulder. "I'll take you to the Headmistress, then I'm out – I ain't got time for-" But they didn't find out what she had no time for. A tall, well built boy with spiky brown hair came hurtling round the corner as Abbey reached the top of the stairs, and the two crashed into one another. Abbey pin wheeled her arms and Ron only just grabbed her under her arms before she fell. The brown haired boy grinned as he hoped back up to the top step and looked at the girl in Ron's arms.

"Abbey, baby," he said, as two other boys came running round the corner. One of them threw the boy a ball as they hurtled down the grand steps, the other shoved A.J. on their way past. "You've gotta stop throwing yourself at me like this, it's embarrassing."

Abbey fought to get out of Ron's arms without losing her balance. "In your dreams Bobby Meyhew!" she snapped. "I'd rather get my liver eaten out with a fork than go on a single date with your sorry ass!" The boy named Bobby just smirked. He was tossing the ball from hand to hand, a resounding smack sounding every time he caught it. Ron thought it was maybe a Quadpot ball, as it was the wrong shape and colour for a Quaffle; Charlie had told him in America they didn't play much Quidditch as they preferred Quadpot for some reason. He couldn't remember how it was played, but he wasn't sure it necessitated the level of swagger emanating from this boy.

"Now, now sweetie, don't show off in front of your new friends," he said in a patronising tone, eyeing up Ron and the others. His grin slipped away. "I don't know you," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Er..." said Ron unimpressively. Bobby took a step forward.

"Hey, toad," he said, unnecessarily loudly considering Ron was only a couple of feet away. "Who are you, and what are you doing in my school?"

Abbey shot between the two boys and shoved Bobby, who was at least twice her size, very hard in the torso. He didn't move much, but he looked down frowning. "You," she shouted, waving her finger in his face. "Get. Right now! Or I'm tellin' your mamma what you did to the 7th Graders at the Spring Fling last year."

Bobby narrowed his eyes. Ron was aware that the two other boys, who had been messing around halfway down the steps with a Filibuster firework had stopped and were now watching the proceedings intently, unaware the wick was still flaring in their hands. "You wouldn't," said Bobby quite calmly.

Abbey cocked her eyebrow. "Frogspawn and all." The brown haired boy stopped chucking his ball about and held it between two hands.

"Fine," he said. "Have it your way." He flicked the ball, hard, into Ron's torso. It winded him, but he didn't have much time to react as Bobby smacked it back into his grasp. "That's my ball, geek," he growled, bouncing it down the steps. He barked at his cohorts to follow him, and Abbey stormed off round the corner. As Ron, A.J. and Chris joined her there was a distinct bang of a firework followed by some explicit cursing from somewhere down the stairs.

"I find it somewhat comforting," said Chris as they marched down the corridor, past a number of closed doors and through the bright patches of sunlight that glittered on the floor. "That even in Magic High they still have jocks as well as cheerleaders."

"Magic High," scoffed A.J. "This is such horse shit."

Abbey stopped walking and slowly turned round to look at him. The rest paused in their stride too. "You got a problem Mr Muggle?" she said, he eyes still fired up from the earlier confrontation. No one said anything.

"You said 'Muggle' wasn't a bad thing," said Chris to Ron, a little upset.

"Of course they ain't dumb ass, my whole family are Muggles," snapped Abbey.

"Then why-"

"I just don't appreciate some Muggle comin' into my school, ruinin' my day then actin' like I made you do all this! I could have left you outside with the geese." She banged her fist on the frame of a rather gentile looking girl in an oil painting. She jumped in her seat and hid behind her lacy fan as her portrait swung on its hinges to reveal a tunnel. Chris gaped at the moving picture but A.J. seemed not to notice as they walked purposely down the passage way, the lamps lighting as they passed.

"You could have been Obliterated and left on the side of the road, you should feel privileged to be in here," she continued. A.J. harrumphed.

"Like it's so special, you're all crazy."

"YOU-" The American girl went to go shove him but Ron interceded.

"Bloody Hell you've got a lot of anger!" he cried as he pulled her back. He stood in between them like she had done with the tall boy on the stairs. "Abbey – Abigail," he tried. She folded her arms and took a deep breath.

"Sorry," she said. "But seriously, there's only so pig headed you can be when you're standing in one of the best magic schools in the world." She carried on walking, but Ron felt a bit put out.

"Hogwarts is pretty good too," he muttered.

Abbey looked sideways at him, her expression unreadable. "Was," she said even quieter.

"Yeah, lighten up A.J." said the blond Muggle Chris. "It's an adventure. Ignore the magic part, how often to you hop in the car and drive across half a dozen states on a whim? This is the kind of thing you're supposed to do before collage." He grinned, satisfied his argument had cleared up all possible grievances.

They carried on walking in silence, up a few flights of stairs and past a bust of a house elf that croaked 'howdy' to them as they went by. "Do you think your headmistress will be able to help?" said Ron as they approached a set of ornate double doors. His head was throbbing again.

Abbey shrugged. "No idea." She banged three times and the doors swung open.

The four students stepped back to avoid their toes getting squashed. There was a large room beyond the doors, bright and airy like the entrance hall had been. The walls were lined with carved wooden bookcases and plant pots blossomed from every possible surface. At the end of the room a large black woman sat at a grand mahogany desk, covered in papers and yet more plants. One of them appeared to be humming to itself. She peered up over her reading glasses and arched an eyebrow.

"Abigail," she stated. "You and your guests may sit." With a lazy flick of her wand she conjured up four chintz chairs and went back to the letter she was reading. Ron looked unsure at Abbey, but she strolled in and took a seat, crossed one leg on top of the other, then looked back at the three boys. She gestured with an impatient nod of her head that they should do the same.

Once settled on the squashy cushion Ron wrapped his fingers around the wooden seat edge and opened his mouth to say something. But he didn't know where to start, and the room was so quiet (save from the humming Venus fly trap) he felt intimidated. So he shut his mouth and there they sat. The minutes dragged on. He looked again at Abbey, but she was just staring absent-mindedly at a framed photo of an old Quadpot team. Chris was looking round the room, his mouth hanging slightly open; A.J. had his hands knotted between his knees and his eyes were fixed on them.

"Why were you outside, Abigail?" asked Madame Crabapple eventually, still reading her letter for what Ron felt must be the fifth time now.

"Orthodontists," she said with conviction. "I cleared it with Professor Rodriguez – my mamma said she wants me to get the perfect smile just the way she did – without magic." She nodded her head with a sort of sad resolution. "She says I'm gonna be prom queen if it kills her. Or me."

The headmistress (as the little plaque in between the plants titled her) gave a noncommittal 'hmm' and turned over another page of parchment. Abbey smiled and looked out the window towards some kind of sports pitch. The little blobs of blurry purple movement suggested to Ron that's where the girl would rather be.

Ron began lightly drumming his fingers on the wood. His mind wandered, imagining exactly what he would say to Draco Malfoy the next time his saw him, about the mess he'd gotten him in to, and then exactly how he would punch him on the nose. It would give a satisfying crack and spurt blood everywhere as people around him cheered. Every time Ron thought about it there were more and more people gathered round, and some of them would even hug and kiss him after.

He leant back and lifted his tired feet up to rest them on the mahogany. Madam Crabapple didn't even look up from her letter.

"Ronald Weasley keep your damn boots off my desk or I will hit you with a spoon." Ron paused, feet in the air, then guiltily lowered them to the floor. He looked at Abbey who was fighting back a laugh before looking back to the headmistress; she had still not raised her eyes from her correspondence.

After another minute or two, she carefully folded up the parchment and offered it to the fly trap. It stopped humming, and turned its head with interest. The teacher shook the letter encouragingly, and the plant opened its large mouth for her to drop the parchment in. It sat happily chewing on its snack, slowly swallowing it, and Madam Crabapple laced her fingers together on the desk in front of her ample bosom.

"I have been informed," she said in a deep and melodious voice. "By the British Ministry of Magic, that an underage wizard, previously thought to be deceased, is in fact now running round North East America, practicing magic in front of Muggles." Ron looked guilty as her gaze swept rightwards from him to Chris and A.J. It didn't stay there long. "I urged them not to take action, on a request from my good friend Albus Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore's here!" blurted out Ron. His relief was tangible; finally someone he knew, someone on his side. Madam Crabapple tilted he head and narrowed her eyes, and he thought it best not to interrupt again.

"Albus is not here," she corrected. "He is far too weak to travel. He was however aware of your situation almost as soon as it occurred, and advised me you might try and seek our help."

"So you believe me then?" Ron couldn't help but ask. "You think I'm from another dimension?"

Madam Crabapple sat back in her chair. "Albus believes you, and therefore so do I." Ron blew out a sigh of relief and actually laughed.

"Brilliant," he grinned. Chris grinned back at him but A.J. still frowned.

"How come you let the Muggles in Ma'am?" asked Abbey. She wasn't being horrible, just curious.

"My name – is A.J." he said slowly and without humour.

"Alexander James and Christopher are our guests for the time being," explained Crabapple. "They are now in some danger and require the protection of these walls."

"Danger?" asked Chris.

"How did you know our names?" said A.J. at the same time.

"That would be the magic, dumb ass," replied Abbey.

"So you can send me home?" said Ron to the teacher, ignoring all the others. She took a breath and looked down at her hands.

"According to Dumbledore, your 'situation'," Crabapple emphasised, "is actually a bit more complicated than just returning you home." Ron felt his grin fade. Of course it was.

"More serious than waking up in your doppelganger's pyjamas?" asked Abbey. Madam Crabapple nodded.

"Trading your life force with that of another, no matter if that other looks and sounds like you, has serious consequences. It also," she said, leaning forward once again, "has serious power."

Ron thought about this a moment. "Power?" The headmistress nodded. "Me? But, I'm nothing special."

"I think you will find," she said, standing up. "That it is your _potential_ for power that will now get you into trouble."

"Oh good, more trouble," grumbled Ron. The professor was reaching up to one of her top shelves; she scooted a couple of walking tea cups out of the way and pulled a wooden bowl gently down with her finger tips.

"I'd like to share something with you kids," she said, placing the bowl in between her plants and papers. The Venus fly trap sniffed at the silvery smoke-like liquid inside but Crabapple tapped the end of its nose and it backed away.

"Is that a Pensive?" asked Abbey in awe. Ron looked at it; Harry had told him about Dumbledore's pensive – a stone bowl that contained memories.

"What's a Pensive?" asked Chris eagerly. Madam Crabapple actually managed a smile.

"Lean in and find out."

The four students (even A.J. reluctantly) leaned forward in their chairs to look at the silvery substance. Ron sort of knew what was going to happen, but he was still shocked when the force sucked him into the bowl and into the memory.

They landed hard on their feet in another room surrounded by plants, but this one was quite different. A.J. spun round furiously, taking in his surroundings. "What the Hell just happened!" he yelled, but Abbey shushed him with fervour. They were standing in a large greenhouse, the stone floor was covered in smatterings of fresh dirt, and there was a rack of different coloured earmuffs hanging in the corner. Rain was pelting down on the roof above their heads.

"Hogwarts," moaned Ron with a fondness he never thought he'd possess for his old school. They were in one of the Herbology classrooms. But Abbey shushed him again and pointed to a figure fussing behind a work bench covered in mud, hedge clippers and several mugs that once contained tea. It was a very young looking Professor Sprout. "I don't think she can hear us," said Ron confidently as she bustled past them to address the class behind them, totally oblivious to their presence. Every child had a pulsating orangey yellow plant with what looked like large pea pods hanging off them.

"What the _hell _is happening!" hissed A.J. who's black skin had gone as pale as it possibly could. Chris was again looking around with his mouth hanging open.

"You're in someone's memory," said Ron hastily. Professor Sprout had started talking and he didn't want to miss whatever they were supposed to hear. "Crabapple obviously wants to show us something important, so shut up."

"-highly potent," the teacher had been saying, and the four students gave her their full attention, along with the rest of the class. "So make sure you've got your gloves on and there are no holes. Potter!" she snapped. "This is no joke!"

Ron immediately scanned the class for Harry, but it was a different boy with black hair and glasses that looked sheepish in the corner. "Sorry Miss, it was Lupin," he said cheekily.

"Was not!" cried a boy with shaggy brown hair beside him. It was Harry's dad, realised Ron with a strange sensation in his stomach. Sirius was beside him, and Wormtail was trying to copy his notes. The all must have been about thirteen.

A girl with red hair had her hand up in the air, eager to ask a question. "Professor?" she asked. Sprout nodded at her.

"Yes Evans?"

"What do the pods actually do, why are they so dangerous?"

"Very good question," replied the teacher. "They have psychotropic qualities – can anyone tell me what that means?"

"Makes you mental!" cried out a boy who Ron deemed seriously in need of a haircut.

"I thought it was like hallucinations, or something," said an Asian girl a little more timidly.

"They give you visions," came a voice from the back. Sirius was flicking through his textbook in an engaged sort of way, and hadn't looked up to answer. He frowned as he came across something in the text, then made a note on his parchment.

"Yes!" cried Professor Sprout. "Ten points for Gryffindor. The plants alter your state of mind, and can act as a catalyst for those with particular skills in Divination."

"What's-" Chris began to ask, but the room swirled around them. Suddenly it was a bright sunny day, and the orangey plants were much taller. "-Divination?"

"Fortune telling," supplied Abbey, looking intently at the new scene before them. Professor Sprout was telling the same class how to pop the peas from the pods without damaging them.

"That's it, into the dishes, careful not to drop any."

Suddenly, a girl began to scream. She was staring at her partner who had frozen; her hair was billowing above her head, and she was arched looking at the ceiling. Even Ron could see the hole in her glove from where they were standing. "Everyone stand back!" yelled Sprout, and the class scrambled to move away from the girl.

"What's happening?" cried James Potter, trying to see even though the other students were pushing him back. "What's-"

But he soon found out. The girl opened her mouth, and her voice came out in a husky shout.

"_He who misplaces himself shall hold the key, and he shall bring light and power and control to all he sees, all he can imagine. And with great force and acumen he will be the instrument of unity, and the king of all will rule."_

The girl collapsed to the floor and Professor Sprout rushed forward to tend to her. Ron and his companions stood very still as the world swirled once more and pulled them out of the memory.

They landed back in Madam Crabapple's office. Ron shook himself and blinked. Chris grabbed A.J. as his legs gave way and he landed unsteadily in his seat. Abbey gawped at Ron, unaware that her headmistress was watching them expectantly. "So..." said the cheerleader hesitantly. "Does that make you the king?"

Ron, who had heard that prophecy before, in a courtroom a long way from where he was now standing, felt his knees go a little weak too.

"I think that would definitely count as 'more trouble'," he said to no one in particular.

xxx

Sarah Potter sat on a plastic stool in the long deserted medical wing. The sun was setting and the elongating shadows were taking the heat of the day with them. She gave a little shudder.

The hand clasped between her palms was cold and clammy, but the wrist just above it still beat a weak pulse. Unblinking the young black haired girl rocked immeasurably back and forth. She had been doing this so long her thighs would cramp if she tried to stand, but she attempted no such thing.

She spoke, the same thing over and over again, though it had been many hours now since Draco Malfoy could have heard her. His breathing was shallow, and his eyes flicked below the lids with the R.E.M. of restless dreams.

"Come back to me," she whispered. "Wherever you are, please – come back to me."


	4. Disturbia

Chapter Four -

Disturbia

For a moment, there was nothing. It lingered, swirling, all consuming.

It didn't last.

With a terrified gasp Harry Potter snapped open his eyes and sat bolt upright. His head throbbed and he felt sick to his stomach but otherwise he was unharmed. A breeze blew gently past him, and looking over his shoulder he realised the window was broken, shattered. Only the jagged edges remained.

"Harry?" came an uncertain voice. Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood were staring at him. He was sitting on the library floor, a large dragonfly buzzing about his head. Suddenly it all came flooding back to him.

"Sirius!" he cried, and stood shakily to his feet. Neville and Luna ran over to help him.

"Harry what that Hell is happening?" asked Neville, just ask Madame Pince the librarian came storming over to ask the very same question. When she saw the glass all over the floor she furiously repaired it with one flick of her wand, and managed a single hiss that generally conveyed the idea that they should leave, very soon.

Harry looked around bewildered as Neville scooped up pages and pages of notes written in his own hand, though they were unfamiliar to him. His mind was a blur. Had he really just found Sirius? Could he maybe bring him back, save him? He spotted the covers of some of the books as Madame Pince tried to balance them in one pile and pick them up.

"Hang on," he said, putting his hand on top of the pile and checking the rest of the titles. "Can I check all these out?" The Hogwarts librarian looked like she'd rather break the spines of every single book herself right there in front of him, but she reluctantly agreed.

The three students made it out into the corridor, then Harry stopped right where he was, slid down the wall and spread the books out again. "I need those notes," he said to Neville, flicking through the first volume his hand touched. Neville and Luna looked at each other, then sat on the floor with their friend. Neville handed over the parchment.

"Seriously Harry, what's got into you?" he asked. "Blaise gave you that letter and you've just lost the plot."

"What letter?" said Harry, his head snapping up. Neville arched an eyebrow.

"This one," said Luna helpfully, holing out a single sheet of parchment. Harry took it and read it. And read it again.

"Well, that makes little to no sense," he said, and handed it back to Luna, nose already back in the book. Luna read the message thoughtfully, then passed it over for Neville's consideration.

"Who's Sarah Potter," he asked, holding up the letter to Harry as if to illustrate. "And why's she hanging out with Malfoy?"

"No idea," replied Harry, scanning through one of the pages he'd written; the words 'Dimensional Hotspots' had been written and re-written in big black letters then underlined several times at the top.

"You seemed to know a minute ago," commented Luna in a dreamy voice. "Then there was a big storm in the library and you took a funny turn."

The drumming in Harry's chest was finally beginning to subside from the initial adrenalin rush he'd suffered waking up. As he began to feel more calm his friends' words started penetrating his thoughts and panic, and he in turn began to process them.

"You were talking to me just now?" he said after taking a deep breath.

They both nodded. "You said you were working on something, then Blaise gave you the letter," explained Neville. "Then you get upset about Ron and Hermione and said you had to go home."

"That's when all the lightening happened," added Luna.

Harry thought about this, then looked down at his notes. "It wasn't me you were talking to," he said.

"I think it was-" began Neville, but Harry shook his head.

"It wasn't, it was another me from..." he stopped as several fourth years went into the library giving the trio funny looks as they passed. Harry waited until the door was shut again. "An alternate reality."

They both stared at him. "Oh, okay," replied Luna in an understanding voice, but Neville shook his head.

"No, I don't get it."

Harry sighed. Of course he didn't, why would he? It was ludicrous – the body swapping, the dead-people-who-weren't-really-dead, the limbo library. His heart was really slowing now as he tried to think where to start.

He did his best to explain. Where he'd been, the other Ron and Hermione from different universes, and the Draco Malfoy too. Neville and Luna watched dumbstruck. "It was a sort of limbo place," he said, remembering what the little Librarian man had said. He reached forward and shook open the letter Luna had given him a moment ago. "I bet these people in the letter, this Ron, Hermione and Draco, are the ones who displaced us and made us half lives." He pulled open another book and cross referenced it with a few notes at the bottom of the page in his hand. He knew this was a bit much to just dump on his friends out of the blue, but the burning desire to find Sirius overrode the need to sit patiently and wait for them to respond.

"Is this possible?" exclaimed Neville finally in disbelief, turning some of the books around to look at the descriptions on the back. Harry nodded.

"The other Harry, the one who was just here wearing my clothes, he's done it quite a lot apparently."

"He had a pendant," Luna said, remembering. "Do you still have it, round your neck?" Harry felt for it but there was nothing; it probably wasn't that important anyway.

"But that's not all," he carried on, and he tried to explain, as best he could, what had happened with Sirius.

Neville was wide eyed. "And he was definitely our Sirius, not from anywhere else?" Harry nodded, his enthusiasm rising again.

"And now I'm back, it'll be easier to bring him back too, that's what the Librarian said."

"That's nice," said Luna with a big smile.

"But how?" asked Neville a little more practically. Harry frowned.

"I'm not sure," he admitted, and they sat in silence for a while. There had to be a way, hidden in all these books. He couldn't let his godfather down now, not after being so close. He'd been pulled back because the other Harry had gone and left his body vacant – he'd been sucked back if anything, like water down a plug. What they needed was something that could reach out and grab Sirius and bring him back to this plane. If only there were some kind of way in...

It was obvious. The thought struck him like a slap in the face as the library door opened once again and the fourth years came out. He recognised one of them as Natalie MacDonald from the Gryffindor reserves team. He jumped up excitedly.

"Natalie!" he cried. She turned, and upon realising who had called her gave a shy smile.

"Hi Harry," she said sweetly, then arched her eyebrows at the mess he'd made on the floor. "Up to much?" she asked, unsure.

"Er yeah, sort of," he said sheepishly. "Listen, could you do me a favour – I need Ron to meet me here, and Hermione if she's about. It's really important."

Natalie swelled with pride at being asked to help The Boy Who Lived in front of all her friends. "Sure thing!" she cried and darted off.

"I think they're at Hagrid's!" Harry called after her and grinned. Some kind of plan was blossoming in his mind, he just needed to work out the details.

"What's going on Harry?" asked Neville from the floor. Harry grinned even more.

"We're going to need _a lot _of rope," was all he said.

xxx

He could feel the dewy grass on his palms and the back of his neck. His head hurt, but he'd had worse. There was a pleasant cooking smell drifting through the air.

Slowly he opened his eyes to stare at a beautiful periwinkle blue sky, and he blinked.

This was definitely not the old History of Magic classroom.

Harry Potter sat suddenly up and looked around; the purple pendant bounced on his chest as he swung his head around. He was sitting on a lush patch of grass, closely surrounded by the back ends of several tents. They weren't normal camping tents though, they were grand square things, brightly coloured with banners and flags billowing off them, all decorated with coats of arms. The sun was shining cheerfully but the breeze was ever so slightly chilly, it felt like a spring morning. Harry frowned; had he travelled across time as well as dimensions? He didn't think he could handle that just now, especially as his stomach was rumbling and someone was definitely cooking bacon somewhere. Where the Hell was he?

Suddenly a man in his mid twenties poked his head around one of the tents. He was very tall, at least a foot above Harry's five and a half feet, with light brown hair and bright blue eyes. His broad shoulders were clothed in a red and gold tunic adorned with a lion, and he had an impressive looking sword sheathed around his hips.

"Knew I heard something!" he cried in a distinctly East London accent. The voice was totally wrong for his antique look, but somehow it fitted him just fine. "You alright there?"

Harry looked up at the stranger. He knew he was pretty far from alright, and had been probably since last November, but he didn't have the heart to be rude. "Yeah," he said wearily. "I'm okay."

The man gave a crooked grin that lit up his eyes and darted over to Harry's side, offering him a hand. Everything about him seemed long, slim but strong, including the fingers he was now waggling in front of Harry's face.

"Come on," he said grinning still. "You're not the first new one we've had, they're landing all over the place in fact. I hear the popping noises." He put a finger in his mouth from his free hand and flicked it out again, illustrating the kind of popping noise he meant. Harry let himself be pulled up.

"Where are we?" he asked. "What 'place' have I landed in?"

The man frowned and looked over the tops of the tents. "Hmm," he pondered. "Not sure what it's called. Technically I haven't been long here myself. Well," he amended, "I think I probably have, but I don't remember much."

Harry didn't totally follow this. He brushed the grass off his jeans and wondered how many tents there were – now he was standing he could hear the murmur of quite a lot of voices not so far away.

A little girl in a green dress with cream polka dots came running round the corner and gasped at them with surprise and delight. "Hello?" said the man.

The little girl hid her grin behind two hands and hissed out a laugh between her teeth. _"Ici!" _she called out to someone the way she had just come. _"Ils sont ici!" _

"Who?" cried a voice Harry didn't have time to register. "Who's here?"

Hermione Granger came pelting round the corner. Her hair was sleek and straight, her fitted jeans flared slightly around a very nice pair of boots, her accessories were matching and Harry could have even sworn she was wearing make-up. She too gasped at the sight of Harry and the tall stranger.

"Harry!" she cried, and flung her arms around him. "Where did you go? The Librarian just said you'd 'gone' and wouldn't elaborate, and then the library all swirled and disappeared and now we're in this huge field with what appears to be a medieval army camped out, and there have been so many new half lives arriving, all from our universes still, and-"

"Hold on Hermione!" Harry interrupted and she took a deep breath. The little French girl was looking up at them in interest. "What the Hell are you talking about? I just activated a letter that was supposed to sent me home, to my own universe." He felt safe using the word 'universe' as she just had. He didn't think this was his own Hermione though, which made him slightly panicky. "Am I in another reality?"

"No," she said, confused. "You're in limbo, remember?"

"Limbo!" said the other man and clicked his fingers. "That's what it's called."

"What do you mean 'another reality?'" asked Hermione. Harry stared at them all in horror.

"Limbo?" he said weakly.

"_Oui!"_ chirped the girl in the green dress. _"C'est un lieu magique."_

"Don't you remember?" asked Hermione, frowning. Harry fought the urge to sit down again.

"No I don't remember," he said a little harsher than he meant to. "I've only just got here. Sarah sent me a letter to get me home and I activated it – next thing I know I'm in some bloody camp site!"

Hermione looked at him, scrutinizingly. "You're not the Harry who disappeared a couple of hours ago, the one who wanted to take Sirius home with him?"

"No," he said, "definitely not. Is Sirius is here, what do you mean?"

"I reckon," said the stranger, "we should go back to camp. More people to answer questions there, as well as more bacon and eggs for breakfast."

Hermione nodded, biting her lip with a worried expression. "Yeah, probably. Thanks for finding him Ric," she added to the tall man. Like his accent, the name seemed to contradict his appearance, but Harry had other things on his mind.

They walked back the way the other three had come, and were soon in a sort of alley way of tents. There were a lot of people walking around, cooking on stoves, chatting and drinking suspect looking liquids from tankards. A lot of their clothes looked similar to Ric's, who was currently walking by Harry's side.

"What is this?" he asked in wonder, taking in the sights. He felt a lot like he did the first time he visited Diagon Alley; that he didn't have enough eyes. Women of all races were darning and washing clothes as children ran around playing games. An out of place looking dandy was trying unsuccessfully to barter with a Chinese peasant girl for some of her bread (or so his mime would suggest) and a Viking was playing exploding snap by himself in a corner. It was a very noisy walk.

"Limbo," said Hermione again. "Apparently it doesn't normally have any form, but when myself and a few others were ousted from our bodies by people crossing realities we came here with such force we kind of made it take shape. It looked like a library to begin with, but when you – another you I guess – disappeared it became this encampment, complete with army."

Harry looked at the Chinese girl as they walked past. She'd given the gentleman some bread, and was now scowling as he mimed her sharing her milk too. None of what Hermione had just said really sunk in or meant much to him. If she'd been ousted from her body did that mean his Hermione had replaced her? He sighed. Basically, from what he could understand, not only was he not home, he wasn't really anywhere. The thought made him feel even more gloomy.

"You said something about Sirius?" he prompted.

Hermione nodded. "We gave this place form, and since then other half lives from the same universes as us have found their forms too. Sirius from the other's Harry's world appeared. He was talking about getting him back when he vanished."

Harry remembered something. "Where I just was, that reality, they told me Sirius was dead. But then Neville said something about trying to find him when he saw my notes on dimensional hotspots, like he wasn't really dead."

Hermione looked at him. "Maybe you were the one who pushed him out of his body, maybe you're the one who sent that Harry here." Harry sighed, again. He didn't like talking about himself in the third person.

"I've knocked a couple of other 'me's out of their bodies," he confessed. "I did always wonder where they went."

"You travel to other dimensions a lot then?" asked Ric; he'd been listening intently the whole time. Harry shrugged.

"I guess twice is a lot," he said. "Last time I got myself and everyone else in a big mess, I thought this time went quite smoothly until I failed to get home." He frowned and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. "I guess I only made it half way."

"Define 'mess'," said Hermione curiously.

"I got my new found sister kidnapped, took a trip to Germany, made friends with Draco Malfoy and got Seamus Finnigan killed. I was only there a couple of days." Hermione had stopped walking.

"Oh my God!" she shrieked. "That's what happened in my universe – you told me I was a witch! Do you think it's the same, are you that Harry?" She didn't wait for an answer, she just grabbed Harry's hand and ran along a couple more tents before stopping in a clearing with a camp fire and lots of people.

"Mr Librarian!" she called out. "Is this the Harry that came to my universe last November?" She looked around for someone as everyone stared. Harry spotted Ron and, once he'd got over the surprise, gave a relieved wave. But he merely looked confused at him then hid back under his baseball cap. He was sitting as close as he could to the fire without actually catching a light, inhaling the smell of the cooking sausages.

"What's Ron's problem?" he asked Hermione as Ric joined them, the French girl riding on his shoulders. "Why does he look so weird?" Hermione blinked and seemed to take a moment to understand the question.

"Oh him!" she said indicating Ron. "No idea, I've never met him before, he's not...around anymore in my world." She looked sad. "But I got the impression from the other Harry the fact he's American and living as a Muggle is slightly out of character."

"My hearing is just fine though," shouted the American Ron from beside the fire. Yes, that was definitely not right, thought Harry.

A short grey haired man poked his head out from inside a tent. "What?" he snapped. Hermione grabbed Harry's hand excitedly. "Mr Librarian, is this the same Harry that travelled to my reality last year?"

The Librarian man stared, as if trying to understand why he was being asked such a mind numbingly trivial question. "Yes," he replied at length. "He is also of the same origin as young Mr Malfoy over there." He jutted his head over to where there was indeed a very familiar Draco Malfoy sulking on the grass. With that he yanked his head back inside and snapped the tent flaps shut.

Hermione gave another shrill squeal and threw her arms around Harry's neck. He saw Ric put the little girl down out of the corner of his eye and smile his crooked grin again. "So you guys know each other?"

"Harry changed my life," said Hermione a little breathless. "Oh we've _missed_ you," she added with another hug. "That other Harry's totally different, and he blamed Draco and you for everything..." She tailed off. "Hang on," she said, thinking out loud. "If you're from the same reality as the Draco over there, then...does that mean my Draco was with you?" Malfoy must have heard his name mentioned as he turned his head and began paying attention to their conversation.

Harry nodded, the warmth of relief spreading through his guts. He wasn't home, but at least he wasn't alone any more. Hermione looked suddenly anxious. "How was he, was he okay? We were so worried what happened to him and Sarah-"

"Since when did you care one Knut about me Granger?" demanded Malfoy coldly as he sauntered over towards them, obviously keen to hear why he was being discussed.

"Not you," snapped Hermione, "the Draco from my reality. He's the total opposite of you and he's spent the last few days in this Harry's reality."

Malfoy looked Harry up and down. "You're a different Potter?" he sneered. Urgh, thought Harry, definitely the same Malfoy whose hand he'd refused on the train all those years ago. He felt a small pang – what a pity. "Anyway, I still don't see what any version of me would have anything to do with you Granger," the Slytherin boy carried on.

"I _told _you," growled Hermione, "he's everything you're not, he's brave and caring and..." She trailed off once again, probably in response to the horrified look spreading across Malfoy's face.

"Are you – am I..." he spluttered. "Is – is there some Draco Malfoy out there who's _shagging _you?"

Hermione flushed crimson in a matter of seconds. "We haven't – there is no _shagging _thank you very much" she managed. "Not that it's any of your business, but we are dating. I think."

Harry suddenly remember the funny looks Draco had kept throwing his Hermione when he'd arrived. He let out an involuntary 'ahh' of understanding. Malfoy, though, did not hear this.

"What the Hell," he spat. "What kind of self respecting Malfoy would touch a filthy little Mudblood like y-"

He got no further. With no visible movement at all, Ric suddenly had his large hand wrapped in a fist around the clothing over Malfoy's chest and was lifting him off the floor. He yanked and brought their two faces together. "That word," he said quite calmly. "Is not used. In my presence." He let go and Malfoy crumbled to the ground.

"Enough Godric!" cried the little Librarian as he came storming out the tent.

The tall man crossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry Merlin," he said with genuine respect. Godric? thought Harry. Merlin? He opened his mouth to comment, just as Hermione did the same thing, but the person who emerged from the tent next stalled his voice, the questions forgotten.

"YOU!" shouted Harry in total disbelief. He launched himself at the entrance to the tent, but he was caught round the waist and yanked aside before he could reach his target.

"Whoa there!" cried Sirius as he put him back on the ground. "Leave Alex alone."

Harry was breathing very fast in and out of his nose. He looked from Sirius, who was the healthiest and youngest he'd ever seen him looking, to a bashful looking Alex. He was exactly the same as he'd seen him last week at Stonehenge, beautiful suit, beautiful face, though perhaps slightly less calm. "Harry," he said, holding up his hands defensively. "Listen, I can explain-"

"You better!" he yelled, pulling at the fine chain holding the purple pendant around his neck. "This is your fault, I know it!"

Alex lowered his hands. "I know, I'm sorry."

"Oh." Harry, who thought he would at least attempt to defend himself, felt somewhat deflated. Everyone was looking at him, and thought he'd better try and justify his outburst. "You said this would guide me," he said, holding up the necklace. "What did it actually do?"

Alex sighed. "It was supposed to guide you here, which it now has done, but I appreciate it worked in other unintentional ways before bringing you here."

"Yeah – I ended up in another parallel universe!" raged Harry. Alex shook his head sadly.

"As did your other friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. The amulet was supposed to take the energy from the crossing spell and channel it to send you here. That's what happened when you performed the spell yourself just now, but earlier it refracted, like light off a diamond. It bounced back away from Draco Malfoy and Sarah Potter, and hit the three of you instead, propelling you outwards."

"I think I need to sit down," said Harry feeling light headed.

"Here, take this." The new Ron had sauntered over with a number of sausages on sticks, one of which he was now offering to Harry. "I have no clue what's going on here, but you sound to be having an even worse day than me." The mood seemed to improve dramatically when everyone had a hot sausage to munch on. Harry realised his headache had gone.

"Right," said Harry through a mouthful of meat. "I'm going to skip past a lot of what you just said and come back to it later, starting with where the Hell are my friends and how do we get them home." He swallowed. "What's got to be at the top of the list though, is why on Earth did you want to bring me here in the first place?"

In fact he had a million questions to ask; everything he'd been presented with in the last half hour had been utter lunacy. But he felt it best to just deal with one thing at a time, then freak out about everything later. Preferably in his own bed. Under the duvet.

"Do you recall that Lord Voldemort knew of your crossing last November, and although it was in a different universe, he was also aware of the possibility when you encountered him last?"

Harry nodded as he finished his sausage. "He thought I was the key to prophecy, but it was actually Draco – not you," he added to the Malfoy currently scowling before him.

"Actually, he only thought it was Draco Malfoy. He did not appreciate the full scope of the prophecy," corrected the Librarian, who was apparently wondering around calling himself Merlin. Harry thought this was a little presumptuous.

"I thought the prophecy talked about someone, who'd been replaced, travelled through dimensions?" asked Harry, but Alex shook his head.

"_He who misplaces himself shall hold the key,_" he recited._ "And he shall bring light and power and control to all he sees, all he can imagine. And with great force and acumen he will be the instrument of unity, and the king of all will rule."_

"Yeah, misplaced – that's what I meant." But Hermione saw shaking her head with a smile.

"Not _re_places," she explained, "_mis_places – as in, isn't where he should be."

Something gave a loud clank as it dropped in Harry's head. "You mean here, don't you – Limbo?" he cried, initially excited that he'd unsolved the riddle, but then the dread started creeping into his belly. Did that mean things were going to get even worse? Of course it did.

"It talks about controlling all you can imagine," expanded Alex. "This realm, our realm, had no real substance until the last day or so when your friends arrived, save for a few pockets."

"Pockets?"

"I like to call one of them 'home'," admitted Alex sheepishly. This made Harry's eyes snap open even further than they were already.

"I've already been here," he spluttered, thinking about the little house he'd been pulled to from Stonehenge.

"Would anyone like another sausage?" offered Ron.

"Enough!" snapped Merlin, becoming increasingly impatient. Everyone became still, and silent. "The point of the matter is that this is the battle ground on which one or more Lord Voldemort's will vie for control of all creation; every universe is bound together by the fabric of this no-man's-land, and if it unravels so will everything else that ever existed!" He sucked in the breath he had failed to breathe during his speech, and looked round (and up) at the several stunned faces he was now surrounded by.

Nobody spoke. For ages.

"Did you just say 'anything that ever existed – ever?'" asked the American Ron.

"In so many words," replied Alex quietly. Harry's mouth was dry.

"So when you told me," he said, trying to wet his lips even a little to talk. "That there was more at stake than the fate of the world...this is what you meant?" Alex nodded.

"It's alright though," chirped up Godric, that crooked grin splashed on his face again. "You're the one who can save it all – and you've got our help, I've got a whole metaphorical army I can lend you. Sort of why I'm here."

"Why this Harry?" asked Hermione, thinking logically. "Why not one of the million other Harrys, like the one who was here before?"

Merlin cleared his throat. "He is the one who forced this particular Voldemort into a half-life existence."

Harry blinked. "Last November? But, there must be all kinds of realities where I defeated him, when I was a baby and stuff?" The little grey haired man shook his head.

"You were the only one who originated from an alternate universe," he said patently. "You planted the seeds for him to find this place, we knew it wouldn't be long before he finally found his way through, so we set in motion events that would hopefully get you here first."

"Did you not wonder why you and the others were wondering the school halls at night?" asked Alex gently. Hermione took a moment to realise he was talking to her; she gasped.

"You wanted Draco – or someone – to open a portal back to this Harry's world! To...get him back here or something!" Alex nodded.

"Clumsy I know, but it was the best we could do."

"Well slap me silly and call me Circe." Everyone turned to look at the young Sirius Black. He had his hands in his pockets and he rolled on the balls of his feet. His face was one of bewilderment. "I have no real sodding clue what's going on or how it came about," he said, his eyebrows raised. "But from the gist of it, I guess we better start thinking of ways for you to save all of bloody creation, hmm?"

xxx

Because there was nothing else at all he could think of to do, Ron Weasley sank meekly back into his chair and stared at Madame Crabapple. "That prophecy's not about me," he said in a small voice. The headmistress looked at him sympathetically.

"Yeah it were!" cried Abbey, flinging herself into the seat beside him. "I heard it with my own ears – talked about people misplacin' themselves, that's gotta be hoppin' through different universes and stuff." She punched him on the arm. "Guess you're in charge of all us folk now," she added, grinning.

Crabapple did not seem as cheerful. "It is not exactly clear who or what the prophecy is about Miss Preston," she said gently. "But it can very well be interpreted the way you suggest."

"But," said Ron desperately. "But – I don't have any key or anything, I'm not a king, I don't know what it means."

"I doubt that will matter very much to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," said the teacher as kindly as she could. Something cold and slippery plummeted in Ron's stomach.

"You-Know-Who?" he whispered.

"Is that that bad wizard Bill was talking about?" asked Chris in hushed tones. "The one from England?"

Crabapple nodded. "The most feared and evil wizard our kind has ever known. I hate to sound melodramatic, but there's no sense hiding the truth from you kids at this stage of the game."

Ron shivered. He knew something like this would happen – why were things never simple? "He going to come after me isn't he? I never should have come here, it's made it worse, Bill said..." The words froze on his lips and he looked at the headmistress with terrified eyes. "My family!" he gasped. "He'll go after my family, we have to warn them-"

He sprung to his feet. Even if they were a strange American version they were still the Weasleys, he couldn't bring this crashing down on them too.

"It's okay Ronald," cried Madame Crabapple, raising her hand to call him back to his seat. "The Bureau have already sent a team over to secure your house and relocate your family for the time being."

"Bureau?" he asked weakly, sitting back down again.

"The Bureau of Illusions. A magical branch of the government, like your Ministry of Magic."

"Holy cow, you mean there really is an X-Files?" exclaimed Chris eagerly, but the look he got from the wizards and witches in the room told him that maybe now wasn't the time.

"My best advice to you now is to seek refuge under our roofs," Madame Crabapple told them. "I will call my heads of departments in to discuss how to facilitate your return journey, and how best to protect your family and the Ron of this world when you leave." She reached into a drawer and took out a small silver whistle; she blew it once then returned it to its home. A large grey owl swooped up to the open window and perched on the wide sill. It hooted softly. "Thank you Artemis," said the woman to the bird. "I wish to speak with the heads." It ruffled its feathers and flew away once again.

"I've really messed things up," said Ron, dropping his head into his hands. The guilt washed over him like a cold wave in the sea. Someone rubbed his back.

"What choice did you have?" said Abbey. "You didn't ask to come here, or for You-Know-Who to chase you down. It'll be okay."

"What do we do now?" asked Chris. Ron couldn't bring himself to lift his gaze from his knees; the headache was even worse now and he was feeling sick. Whether that was the fault of his new predicament or something else he wasn't sure.

"Abbey, if I could trouble you to be custodian of our guests a little longer, I would suggest they find somewhere to collect their strength and thoughts for the next few hours." From the corner of his eye Ron saw Abbey nod eagerly and he heaved his head upwards.

"Sure thing Ma'am," she said eagerly, her tune much changed from half an hour ago. "I'll take care of them, don't you worry."

She jumped to her feet and hauled Ron up alongside her. "There's loadsa places to get yourself lost round here, I'll find you somewhere safe and quiet." The boys rose to their feet. Ron felt numb, like he was looking at everything through a greasy window. How could everything go so utterly, completely wrong?

"Don't trouble yourself too much son," said Crabapple kindly. "We'll sort it out, you'll see."

It was oddly quiet when they stepped out into the corridor. All the doors were closed and the murmur of voices could be heard from beyond. Lunch must be over, thought Ron in a detached sort of way. Was he hungry? He couldn't tell.

"Let's go this way," said Abbey brightly. "I'll take you to the Starbuck common room or something. That's my house's name," she explained in aside to Chris.

"Wait!" cried a voice as they went to move. It was the first time A.J. had spoken since they'd returned from the Pensive. He still looked vaguely like he'd been forced to question most of the values he'd been taught in his existence so far, but his eyes were slightly more awake than they had been in a long time.

"I...I'm sorry," he stammered as the other three turned to face him. "I'm really, really sorry. I can't believe I was such an ass to you Ron, and you guys too." He threw his arms around Ron, surprising him. "It's all true and I did nothing but give you a hard time, I'm a jerk"

"You're not a jerk," said Ron as he let go of him. He wasn't sure what that word meant but decided now was not the time to ask. "It's pretty mental stuff, don't blame you for not believing me."

"I think you're a jerk," said Chris with a grin and punched his friend on the arm. "But it's nice to have you back with us."

"I'm with him," affirmed Abbey. "You're a jerk, so let's all kiss and make up, and go find somewhere to bunker down. I am not willing to get my ass fried by some cranky-as wizard from across the pond."

"I vote going somewhere none exploding too," added Ron. And again they went to move, but were stopped once again by someone shouting.

"Abigail, what's happening, are you alright? Artemis said it was urgent." A young teacher came running to a halt beside the four students. He was very handsome, with black hair and olive skin. Everything about him was neat and tidy Ron noticed. Every hair combed and crease ironed in the right place. He looked concerned at Abbey, then confused at the other three.

"Oh we're fine, just fine," assured Abbey, her face transformed with a delighted smile. "Thanks for askin' Professor Rodriguez, the headmistress asked me to look after these here boys today," she explained, puffing out her chest. "It's what she wants to talk to you about, very important stuff."

"Oh," said the teacher, regaining his composure. "Oh, okay then – as long as you're okay? Wouldn't want one of my best students getting into any trouble."

Abbey flushed bright red. "Oh, no trouble here sir, I promise." Rodriguez nodded, satisfied, then pulled the double doors to enter the headmistresses office.

"He's such a nice teacher, always so concerned," said Abbey in a breathless voice. She turned around to realise the three boys were staring at her. "What?" she demanded.

Ron sniggered. "Nothing," he said grinning.

xxx

Hermione didn't get travel sick. She knew this from the many hours she had spent reading in the back of the car whilst her parents drove them on holidays all across Europe. But no matter how many times she told herself this over the last twenty minutes, she could not put a stop to the sensation that her lunch was imminently going to come back up and say hello.

"Can't you close the window?" Parvati asked for the third time. "It's messing up my hair."

"No," snapped Hermione, gulping down another breath of cool evening air. At least some of the heat had dissipated from the day; the fresh air was the only thing stopping her vision from spinning. Her head still hurt as well, and she was generally left feeling very sorry for herself until the car came slowly, and unexpectedly to a halt.

"Why did you stop?" cried Harry as Hermione flung open the door and jumped out onto the grassy verge. She held her knees and sucked in deep, slow lungfuls.

"I didn't," said Terry, holding his hands aloft. "It stopped itself."

She heard three other car doors open and close, and risked standing upright to take a look around. They were on an empty stretch of single carriage way, dimly lit by lamp posts that looked like they might be on emergency power. Across the road there was another car precariously parked, and yet another one a few meters down the road. The tarmac was flanked by short stretches of grass that continued on into shadowy, rustling woods.

"What the Hell's going on?" demanded Parvati. Terry held his hands up again.

"I have no idea," he said simply. "The car just died on me – hang on."

He jumped back into the driver's seat and tried to start the engine again, but all it did was splutter and growl into silence again. "Deader than disco," he announced, pulling out the keys and stepping back into the night. "There's definitely something freaky happening here – looks like the other cars were abandoned too."

"Oh don't say that," moaned Parvati with a shiver as she looked around. The dim lights flickered every now and again, it made the shadows dance around.

Hermione slowly inhaled once again. She was feeling less sick now but her head was pounding, maybe she was dehydrated? "How far to your house Harry?" she asked.

He considered. "By foot?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well the town kind of starts at the end of this road, which is about five minutes I'd guess, then to actually get to mine maybe another fifteen?"

"Twenty minutes walking?" spluttered Parvati. "I'm wearing heals, I can't do that! No one said anything about walking."

"Well there's been a change of plan," said Hermione and stormed off. She never realised her roommate had the capacity to be such a princess. Harry fell in step behind her; Terry locked the car they'd 'borrowed' and joined them, humming 'These boots were made for walking' a little louder than was probably necessary.

Hermione heard Parvati huff. "Oh fine then," she cried, and stomped up to join them.

"It's really not that far," Harry told her nicely, but all she did was keep scowling ahead.

"What would make the car cut out like that?" wondered Terry aloud as he chucked the keys up and down in his hand as he walked.

"No idea," replied Harry as they passed another car on one side of the road, and a motorbike on the other. They were both facing the direction of the town. Hermione shook her head and fell back into line with the group.

"For everything to stop dead like that it would probably take a massive amount of power."

"Like a power cut?" asked Parvati, which made Terry scoff.

"How would a power cut stop the cars?"

"I was only trying to help!" she cried. "You don't need to be so mean." It looked like she was getting a bit tearful and Hermione actually felt sorry for her. It would probably have been best to leave her behind at the school.

"Oh come on all it takes is some common sense," retorted Terry.

"Enough!" said Harry. "Hermione, what would make the cars stop, what kind of power?"

She couldn't be certain, but she thought that might have been the first time Harry had used her first name since she'd arrived. She stopped walking. "Magic," she said. "Lots of magic."

Harry looked uncertain. "There are a lot of magic families who live here," he said. "But it's not a magic town like Hogsmead or anything."

"Well it could be a number of things magic related," explained Hermione as she started walking again. "A variety of spells could produce the kind of effect we're-"

She stopped dead in her tracks as something freezing plummeted in her stomach.

The trees had moved. It wasn't the wind.

Terry looked were she was looking. "It's just the wind," he said calmly. "Come on or we'll never get there."

Hermione stared at the spot where the branches had rustled. It was so dark she couldn't really see more than a few feet into the foliage, but from what she could see there was nothing. She shook herself.

"Yeah...you're probably right."

They carried on in silence a while, eventually coming to the end of the carriageway. A small roundabout divided the road into three different routes; to the left was another long road past a lake which looked to have a large industrial estate on the other side, to the right there was a sign indicating it went to a motorway, and the final path lead straight on. It was this way the party walked. Gradually as they went down a hill, odd rows of houses started appearing in clusters of threes and fours. They were old fashioned, more like cottages, and not one of them had their lights on. The lamp posts were still flickering as the road levelled off once more and they came more into the village proper; their buzzing was the only sound now the rustling trees were behind them. Other roads started leading off the main one, and there were rows of shops, hairdressers and veterinary practices. Not one light. Not one moving car. Not one person.

"You should have told us you live in the village of the damned Ziggy," Terry piped up, breaking the silence. "I would have bought a shotgun; now I feel rude."

"Don't joke," said Parvati, her arms wrapped around herself.

"This is wrong, this is so wrong," muttered Harry as they passed by a darkened pub. Somewhere in the distance a dog howled making them jump. "Come on," he urged tersely to the others.

They rounded a corner into a little town square with a monument at its centre, and several roads leading off. And there, standing across the way from them, was a solitary figure. "Look!" hissed Hermione as Terry grabbed her to stop her walking.

The man was stood very still in the middle of the road. It was too dark to tell if he'd registered their presence or not, but at any rate he didn't move. "Should we go talk to him?" whispered Parvati as they all stared uncertainly.

Harry clenched his jaw. "I'm not sure," whispered back. "I don't recognise him – why's he just standing there?"

"Maybe he's lost, like us?" suggested Hermione. "Maybe he's wondering why we're just standing over here?" She wasn't sure though.

Suddenly the man moaned. It was the kind of moan a cow might make if you were trying to wake it up from a particularly good dream; deep, mournful and slightly too loud for the amount of silence they'd been used to.

"Why'd he do that?" cried Parvati as quietly as she could, taking a step backwards. "Do you think he's alright?"

Terry frowned. "I think possibly," he said carefully, "he is not alright." The man raised his arms and groped the air, as if someone was dangling something just out of his reach. He began to shuffle forward, and moaned again. Hermione felt that icy shard shoot down her guts again.

"Maybe we should go another way?" she suggested through slightly trembling lips. Harry nodded and turned round, the rest of them did likewise.

Coming down the hill they had just walked was a line of people, about four or five deep, spread out all across the road. They were stumbling slowly with their arms outstretched, just like the man in the square. They were getting close enough to hear their moaning; more people were joining them from the houses and shops.

Hermione tore her horrified gaze away and looked back over at the man the other side of them. Now he was closer she could see his eyes were totally white, and there was a kind of electricity about him, blue lightning that crackled over his body and made his hair whip about, as if he was caught in a storm.

She looked back at the slowly advancing crowd; they all had the electricity flashing through them sporadically, jumping from one body to the next. Somewhere near the front came a particularly blood curdling moan.

Hermione turned her head to see a panic stricken Parvati, then to the boys who were both equally aghast. Terry licked his lips.

"Er," he said. "Run?"

xxx

Ron leant his head back against the cool white tiles. He moved from side to side slowly, pressing his temples onto the ceramic. It didn't dissipate the headache entirely but it did help.

"Snap!" shrieked Abbey as another loud bang resonated in the small room. This didn't help. The four teenagers were sitting in a rather musty storage room behind the Starbucks' changing rooms of Salem Academy. There were baskets of balls like the ones Bobbie the jock had been tossing around on the stairway, brooms that looked as tatty and well used as the ones at Hogwarts, odd bits of kit that matched Abbey's, as well as purple robes and battered catchers mitts and bats. According to Abbey, only the Quadpot and Cheerleading teams knew about this room, and only the captains knew the password. She did not divulge how she had come to learn how to get in.

No matter how many times it happened (which was a lot) Chris didn't stop jumping out of his seat every time Abbey matched a pair of cards. Ron got the feeling he hadn't played the game much, and an exploding version wasn't helping his concentration. He seemed to be enjoying himself though.

"_I'll _deal the next hand," he announced confidently, as if this would increase his chances of winning.

Ron wasn't sure how long they were planning on camping up in the cramped room, but at least he'd been able to get himself comfy on a pile of robes. There was even a small kitchen unit that Abbey had been able to whip up some tea for him (and coffee for everyone else) and little cheese toasties. Fed, watered, and reasonably safe for the moment, he was able to relax his mind and let it wonder.

There was no doubt he was in serious trouble – as situations go this one was pretty dire. But, even if You-Know-Who was theoretically after him, he now had a whole school of teaching staff on his side, working to protect him, working on getting him home. Now it was in someone else's hands, and he didn't have to worry any more.

"Snap!" cried Abbey again, grinning widely at Chris' displeasure.

That wasn't true actually, Ron realised. Obviously he still had a lot to worry about. Because You-Know-Who _was _after him, and only a proper idiot wouldn't be worried about that. And then there was his other family, the ones that lived here; what was going to happen to them? His brothers and sister were totally unaware they were even wizards apart from Bill, what would it do to them having the Ministry show up on their door, or whatever the American equivalent was. Had he ruined their lives?

And what if he never got back? What with all the will in the world the teachers just couldn't do it? Hermione had followed Dumbledore and Flitwick's advice precisely and look where that had got them all? His heart sank a little further at the thought of Hermione, and Harry. Were they okay? Were they home or somewhere else? He sighed and wondered what they would have done in his shoes. He always felt better following their lead – what if he'd done it all wrong?

He looked over at A.J. sitting beside him. He was staring out in front of him, his fingers interlaced and resting under his chin. He too was deep in thought; Ron would have loved to know what about exactly but he didn't have the courage to ask.

"Snap!" shouted Chris triumphantly as the cards went bang. Abbey was about to open her mouth to protest, but at that moment the entrance to the room began to shudder. It wasn't a door per say, more a blank wall where a door appeared after the correct charm was uttered, and then disappeared once the occupants were inside.

"I thought no one could get in here," said A.J. as everybody froze. The outline of the door was slowly forming, creaking as it did.

"No, hardly anyone can," Abbey whispered, wide eyed. "Maybe it's my captain?" She pulled out her wand and stood up. Ron felt it would be a good idea to do the same. There was a tense few moments pause.

Professor Rodriguez, the young Hispanic teacher, poked his head, unsure, around the newly formed door. Upon seeing who was inside his face broke into a bright, relieved smile, as did Abbey's at realising who the intruder was.

"Abigail," he cried and came into the room, shutting the door. "I was looking all over for you, I was worried."

"Oh that's so sweet of you," said Abbey, resting her hand on her chest. "Madam Crabapple told me to look after these here boys so I wanted to hide them somewhere real good – I didn't think many people knew about this place?"

"Oh," said Rodriguez and blinked. "Well, yes, of course I am a teacher Abbey, I know just about everything."

"Oh yeah, sure," replied Abbey, slightly abashed. There was a slight pause and A.J. frowned.

"So what do you want?" he asked, perhaps a little sterner than he should have. The teacher turned his head to take him in.

"You're one of the...Muggles...aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes," replied A.J. "and we're supposed to be in hiding, which is a little difficult to maintain if people come looking for us."

Rodriguez laughed. "You have a point there," he said smiling. "I do apologise, but I needed to find Mr Weasley here. After what the headmistress told us I knew I could help and set off to find you."

"How can you help me?" perked up Ron, a thrill of hope rising up within him.

Rodriguez smiled again, he really was quite dashing. "By getting you home of course."

"Oh that's awesome!" gushed Abbey, "what do we need to do?"

"Well if Ronald comes with me," he explained, "I can sort him right out." He raised his hands as everyone made a move to the entrance. "I think it best the rest of you stay here though – much safer for you."

Slowly, Abbey frowned. "No," she said after some thought. "Madam Crabapple told me to look after them all, I think we should stay together. Sir," she added afterwards.

The professor scoffed. "I think I know a bit more about protection spells than you do Miss Princeton, he'll be fine."

"Why can't we just stick together then?" asked Chris. "Then you can protect us all."

Rodriguez took a patient breath in. "Honestly, you'll be fine here, Ron is the priority."

There was a slightly tense pause as Ron's companions stared at the teacher. Ron himself couldn't really see what the problem was, he should just go along with Rodriguez – after all he was the most qualified in the room. So he said so.

"It's fine guys, it probably will be safer for you to stay hidden here – nobody wants to bump into You-Know-Who unless they have to."

Abbey shifted her weight uncomfortably. "But, Madame Crabapple was very specific," she argued. "I was supposed to look after them all."

"Yeah, I don't want to be split up," added Chris.

"This is none of your business!" snapped Rodriguez suddenly, glaring at Chris. "You shouldn't even be in the school, I don't know what Crabapple was thinking."

A.J. squared up to the adult before them. "We're here," he said slowly, "because our best friend of over ten years has had his body swapped and now the most notorious wizard on the planet wants to get his hands on him." The conviction in his voice was surprising. What happened to 'this is all nuts' thought Ron.

"Okay everybody, time out," said Abbey, making a T shape with her hands. "I'm sorry sir," she addressed to Rodriguez, suddenly smiling again. "I guess we're all a little strung out. Of course you should take Ron alone, I should never have questioned you."

The professor looked somewhat put out by this, but he smoothed out his crease free clothes and smiled back. "No you shouldn't Abigail," he agreed. "But thank you for your apology."

"Can I just ask somethin' – just out of curiosity?" Was now really the time for curiosity? wondered Ron. He'd been relieved when she'd backed down – he just wanted to get home, why was she holding them up?

"Well, I was just thinkin' – how would Herbology relate to travellin' through realities? I mean – that's fascinatin' – I'll do my N.E.W.T. coursework on that."

Rodriguez blinked and smiled again. "It is fascinating," he said, "but also complicated. I'll be happy to explain at a later time."

He turned and performed the charm on the hidden door, causing the outline to appear again. Ron felt a surge of optimism – maybe he would finally be on his way home.

"Gee thanks professor," said Abbey sweetly. Then several things happened at once.

As the door swung open to reveal the changing room beyond, it became quickly apparent that a class of younger girls had recently entered and were just starting to get changed. At the sight of not only a door but several older students and a teacher emerging from a solid wall, they began screaming shrilly and jumped onto the benches, hiding behind their cloaks. Briefly distracted by this noisy sight, Rodriguez turned back to look at Ron and the others. In one swift movement, Abigail the cheerleader drew back her left fist, and without a moment's hesitation, punched her teacher square on the nose. Blood spurted everywhere as his head snapped back and smacked into the edge of the still opening door.

"Come on!" she screamed and grabbed Ron's hand, dragging him out. The others followed, and A.J. heaved the door back shut again as Rodriguez slumped to the ground.

"What the Hell was that?" yelled Chris as the four students sprinted past the room of still shrieking girls.

"That?" said Abbey as they ran out into the fresh air. "That was four older brothers who never played fair." She flexed and shook out her hand and they ran along the grass, past some out buildings and back towards the main campus.

"That's not what I-" Chris began, but Ron interrupted.

"Why the Hell did you just punch and run away from a guy who was trying to help me?"

"Help you?!" cried Abbey as they skirted around another building and stopped. "A) Rodriguez would never launch into someone for being a Muggle, 2) why the Hell would he want to split us up, and d) he teaches God damn Transfiguration!"

"Oh," said Ron, feeling a little foolish.

"So what are you saying?" asked A.J. Abbey shook out her hand again and looked at it.

"Is he a traitor?" Ron asked, feeling a little sick, but she shook her head.

"I don't reckon so – maybe he was under the Imperius Curse, or it wasn't even him." She frowned and bit her lip. "I hope he's not a traitor."

"Whatever the case, if he wasn't trying to help us what was he doing?" questioned A.J.

"Probably wanted to take Ron to You-Know-Who," said Abbey reasonably. "Come on, we need to keep moving, he'll be right behind us."

They started running again, following Abbey's blond curls as they bounced ahead of them. It seemed the students of Salem were on their way to their next classes as the campus was packed again, and the group had to weave in and out of the crowds without losing one another. She darted inside the main building again, and once more they felt the cooling relief of the building's shade.

"In here," she hissed, after checking no one else was around. She nipped behind a large plinth with an eagle on, just like the one on the school's crest, and placed her hand on the wall. It slid open and they all dived in to the darkened passage way. "We have to go down," she explained, grabbing her wand and lighting it with a quick 'Lumos' spell. There was indeed a ladder leading straight down just a little way ahead of them, and one by one they descended.

"Where are we?" enquired Ron as he reached the bottom. The banging in his chest was subsiding ever so slightly as the adrenalin ran its course. Abbey waited until everyone was down then began walking.

They were clearly underground, and the tunnel looked to be supported by a series of wooden beams, like a mine shaft thought Ron. His dad had once explained to him about how Muggles dug underground for things in 'mines'. He wasn't sure what things, but Fred had once told him that's where chocolate came from. Ron wasn't so sure though.

"It's part of the underground railroad," Abbey said as they walked. There were torches attached to the walls with brackets, and they lit as they walked past. Still, Ron lit up his wand as it made him feel better. "You know, what the slaves used to escape the South hundreds of years ago," she carried on. Ron didn't know. "We're not really supposed to come down here, Crabapple said at the start of the semester especially not to come in this entrance, but I know it all really well so I'm sure we won't have any trouble. Rodriguez won't find us."

Ron sighed. So much for everything being fine and not worrying any more.

xxx

Hermione wasn't sure if she could run any more. What on Earth had possessed her other self to wear these boots? They were hard enough to walk in, let alone sprint away from a hoard of cursed towns folk. What was she thinking? Parvati was definitely struggling as well, but for once was suffering in silence.

Suddenly Harry veered off to the right down a path flanked by two lines of trees. The area was deserted save for a large house vaguely illuminated by the moonlight up ahead of them at the end of the path. As he skidded to a halt he fumbled in his pocket and eventually pulled out a set of keys.

"Come on, come on," whispered Parvati as he flicked hurriedly for the right one and jammed it into the lock. With a collective gasp the four students fell through the door and slammed it shut behind them.

For several minutes they panted in the silence, not looking at one another. Hermione thought she might throw up for the second time that evening, but managed to hang on until the feeling passed again.

After a time Harry straightened up and walked into the living room on the left. Hermione guessed this must be his house, but it was just as dark and deserted as all the others. "Mum?" he called out, turning on the light in the adjoining kitchen. Parvati moved like a shot and smacked the switch off again.

"Are you crazy?" she snapped, staring at him in disbelief. "Do you want them to find us? We haven't even checked the house properly – your parents could be in here looking just like the rest."

"Again – wishing I'd brought a shotgun," said Terry, looking curiously round the living room. He caught his reflection in the large mirror above the fireplace; they grimaced at each other as he unstuck his sweaty hair from his head, then slumped into the comfy looking sofa. Hermione contemplated doing the same, but then reasoned if she sat down she might not get back up again.

"My parents are not zombies," growled Harry at Parvati, who scowled back.

"Nobody's a _zombie,_" she retorted, folding her arms. "Didn't you see the blue lightening?"

Harry frowned. "Yes, but-"

"Yes but nothing – they're under the Imperius Orbis Curse – it's like the Imperius one but loads of people at a time, that's why they're so slow and dumb, it's less concentrated."

Everyone was staring at her, including Hermione. She was just going to give that answer herself and was a little put out.

"What?" demanded Parvati. "You think after what happened last November I _wouldn't _take Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts?" She scoffed and walked over to the window, peering out of the curtains. "They're not dead, but they're not exactly alive any more either. Only the person that cast the spell can take it off, and unless they do they'll all be like that until they waste away."

"You mean die?" asked Harry in a hollow voice.

Parvati nodded, but it was Hermione who answered. "They'll starve to death," she said in a small voice, choosing not to look at anyone, but focus on the floor instead. "They'll just wonder around until they get too tired, then they'll just lie down and die." It made her feel sick thinking about all those families, a whole community, emptied of their personalities.

"So they don't want to eat our brains then?" asked Terry. Parvati shook her head.

"But they can still infect us, make us like them, just by touching us." She shuddered and looked out the curtains again. Hermione sank to the floor. The moonlight was spilling in through the kitchen, making the living room a series of shadows and outlines. She leant against the wall by the kitchen door and pulled off her boots, sighing in relief as she massaged some feeling back into the balls of her feet.

This is just like what happened to Harry, she thought ruefully. Wasn't it bad enough to be in a parallel universe? Why did Godric's Hollow have to turn into a monster movie too?

Suddenly Parvati gasped and jumped back from the window. Terry jumped to his feet as she backed into him, rigid and shaking. "I saw – there was a few of them," she whispered, he eyes fixed on the window. "They were on the road, I don't think – I hope they don't come this way. They won't will they?" she almost pleaded to Terry, turning to face him. He squeezed her shoulders.

"You said they were thick right – they'll probably just walk right past," he whispered reassuringly. Harry crept silently up to the window and squinted out the small gap the curtains made.

"I think they're gone," he said. Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding and pulled her gaze away from the window. They really ought to start thinking of a game plan; they couldn't just sit in the living room after all. She began to rub her feet again.

It took her a moment to realise the pool of moonlight from the kitchen was only half the size it had been before.

She froze and stopped breathing again. She didn't want to, but very slowly she made herself turn her head to look. There in the kitchen, shuffling gradually and silently towards them, was a red headed woman in her late thirties. Lily Potter.

She had her arms outstretched and her white eyes were unblinking. Unable to control herself, Hermione screamed and scrambled away from the possessed woman. The others whipped round and Parvati screamed too at the sight. "No!" cried Harry, aghast. Terry pulled them back into the corner of the room, away from the window and Lily. There was a small part of Hermione that morbidly fascinated to see Harry's long deceased mother in the flesh, but the large part that was telling her to run far, far away was winning out.

"Shit, shit, shit!" hissed Terry as the woman approached.

"We have to get out of here," said Hermione looking widely around. They backed towards the entrance way, but as they passed the window it shattered down on their heads as several hands crashed through, groping widely. Hermione felt a sharp pain on her shoulder, then a burning sensation as the blood began trickling down. Parvati screamed again and bolted for the stairs, but her way was blocked.

It could have been an older Harry, maybe in ten or twenty years time, but Hermione knew really it was James Potter, it had to be. Parvati ran straight into his outreached hands.

"_NO!"_ screamed Harry, but it was too late. The second James' bare hands touched her skin Parvati went rigid, teetering on the step she was on, and a flash of blue lightning jumped between them. Her eye lids fell, like she'd abruptly fallen asleep, and her shoulders sank. For a second nobody moved, and then her eyes, her milky white eyes opened as she let out a moan from the depths of her throat.

"Parvati, no!" cried Harry and made to dash for his friend, but Terry grabbed his arm and hauled him back, seizing an umbrella from a stand as he turned back into the lounge. The people outside were still trying to get through the window but couldn't work out the mechanics of it. They were cutting themselves up pretty badly on the glass but didn't even seem to realise. Terry marched straight up to Lily Potter and swung the umbrella at her like a cricket bat, knocking her out of the way. Without speaking he snatched Hermione's hand, and the three of them pelted into the kitchen, slamming and locking the door.

Harry was absolutely shell shocked. "They're not dead," he croaked as Terry quickly scanned the room. "They're not dead."

Terry shut the back door and locked that too – Lily must have come from the garden earlier, Hermione realised. His eyes lighted on a large cabinet and he ran over to it, flinging the doors open. His face said it all as it split into a smile. Hermione ran to see herself; it was full to the brim with potion ingredients.

"No they're not dead," said Terry to his friend as hands started scratching and banging on the other side of the door. "But we need to stay human long enough to save them. What do you say to saving your sister, then we can work on everyone else." Harry's green eyes widened as Hermione's insides dropped. She guessed what was coming next.

"Hermione?" asked Terry, his eyes shining. "You know that spell off by heart?"

xxx

The hospital sheets felt cool under Sarah's arms and cheek. She was very tired but refused to sleep, and was instead staring out the large window into the night. She still sat on the same chair, legs numb, resting on the bed of Draco Malfoy. He didn't move or murmur like a normal person would in their sleep; the only sign of life was his eyes flicking underneath his lids and very shallow breathing.

Sarah kept going over the events over and over again in her head, trying to work out what had happened. How the first spell had malfunctioned, how Draco had performed the charm in front of Dumbledore and passed out. The headmaster, although concerned, didn't seem surprised enough at the turn of events for Sarah's liking. Had he known Draco would slip away into unconsciousness like this? If so did he have a plan do get him back? She'd barely seen him since they'd moved to the hospital wing.

"Are you sure you don't even want a bite?" Sarah lifted her head to look at Ginny Weasley. She was sat with her boyfriend Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan on the other side of the bed – they each had a plate of shepherd's pie balanced on their laps that they were eating. She'd bought one for Sarah but the thought of any kind of food made her want to retch.

The three of them had been quite good at keeping her company since the incident, but in all honesty Sarah wished they'd leave her alone. They didn't really understand, this was between her and Draco. They didn't even like him, not here in their world. She thought maybe they just felt guilty the spell had gone wrong so wanted to look after her as penance; it wasn't their fault but they didn't seem to get that.

Rather than answer, Sarah just put her head back down on her arms and gazed back out into the starry night. Was this it? Was she just going to be stuck here now, without a family, hanging out with Ginny Weasley? She couldn't even think of any relatives she could even live with – all her grandparents had passed away and she'd never met her aunt and uncle, she couldn't even remember their names. Maybe Sirius would take her in?

"So..." whispered Seamus to the others. Sarah guess by his hushed tone it wasn't really intended for her to hear, but Seamus never was very good at subtlety. She sighed sadly. "What exactly is Dumbledore doing to wake up Malfoy?"

At this Sarah paid them attention. "His name's not Malfoy," she said, sitting up. "It's Draco." They looked a little embarrassed.

"Sorry," said Ginny, swallowing a mouthful of pie. "I guess we don't know him like you do."

"Not many people do," Sarah admitted, looking back down at his pale face. She stroked his sheets absentmindedly. There was silence for a while, in which Sarah didn't really think of anything, and lots of things at once. The Moonlight Sonata was floating in and out of her consciousness.

"So – you're just gonna hang about and see if he wakes up?" asked Seamus, unsure. Sarah looked at him. They thought she was strange, they thought he wasn't worth it. What kind of answer did they want?

"I saw you die," she informed him. It wasn't to be unkind, but she couldn't find anything else she could say to him. She'd known Seamus almost all her life, him and her brother had been inseparable, especially since school. But he wasn't there anymore, he was gone. "The blood ran into the mud and the rain, and your eyes just...stopped."

The three older students looked mildly horrified by this statement, but Sarah just stared at them. Her lungs felt tired as she breathed, her head felt tired as she thought. Everything was back to front and upside down, which honestly hadn't been that scary when she'd had Draco by her side, but the loneliness was crushing down on her now. Mostly she was tired of being helpless, tired of being the one who gets kidnapped and rescued – once was traumatic enough, then everything at the Ministry and now – well now she needed rescuing from the whole bloody world around her.

"Enough," she said out loud. She hadn't really meant to, but then she said it again. "Enough!" The other three raised their eyebrows at her; Dean Thomas actually leant back a little bit. "I'm not waiting anymore," she announced, rising to her feet. She looked at Ginny, Dean and Seamus as they remained seated, plates on laps, forks in hand. "I've had enough," she said, and paused for thought.

"Grab his feet."

xxx

The banging on the other side of the door was getting worse. Hermione tried to close her eyes and concentrate as Terry shouted instructions at Harry, but it was getting harder. She did know the spell off by heart, she'd only done it a few days previous, but the heat from the cauldron was making her mix up the numbers. Was it one ounce of wormswart and three of charred wolfsbane, or the other way around?

"Ziggy, don't chop it, it's needs skinning," said Terry, pointing at the ginger in Harry's hands.

After deciding it was indeed one ounce she wanted Hermione flung the wormswart into pot and stirred it twice counter clockwise. She wondered again why on Earth Terry had given Harry such a ridiculous nickname, but now was not the time to ask. "I need the essence of straight-silver," she instructed, her focus remaining on de-seeding the dried purple flowers now in her hands. Terry looked around the table, moved some ingredients about, then sprinted back over to the cupboard.

"Hey catch!" he called out, throwing a phial to Harry, who caught it easily. At least he still had his reflexes here, thought Hermione. He passed it into her outstretched hands and she dispensed three drops into the mixture.

Her mind wondered as she worked. How was it possible for him to be so different? The Harry she knew was brave, selfless, resourceful – this one seemed to be hardly any of those things. Was it his upbringing, or what happened last November? What was she like in this reality? It was hardly fair to have a go a Harry if her other self was a total cow as well. And why did they think Draco Malfoy was her boyfriend?

"What can I do next?" asked Harry, bringing her back to the world. She felt her ears redden slightly, guilty for having just been thinking bad thoughts about him. At least he was trying now.

"Count out 27 of those little black seeds," she said, indicating the pile she'd made. "It has to be exact." She began shredding the purple flower petals and sprinkling them into the brew.

Terry had given up on the potion and was impatiently pacing the length of the kitchen, twirling his wand between his fingers. They had almost finished adding everything now, so Hermione didn't see the sense in chiding him.

She'd had to use a few substitute items but other than that she was confident in their work. At least, she hoped so anyway. Unknowingly she began reciting the instructions again quietly to herself, miming out some of the actions. Everything had to be right.

"What happens now?" asked Harry, glancing warily at the door as it gave a particularly fierce shudder. The moans were so loud now they practically had to shout at each other to be heard.

"It has to brew – but not for long, only half an hour or so."

"Half an hour!" cried Harry. "What the bloody Hell are we supposed to do until then – they could knock down that door any second!"

"And what would you propose?" snapped Terry. "We've made the damn potion, we need to see it through – we might not get another chance. Once we get Sarah back we can work out how to fix the zombies." He fired another protection spell at the door. "There – happy?"

"Um – actually, I don't think she'll come here," said Hermione in a small voice. She'd completely forgotten to mention it before, but now it was obvious they'd got their wires crossed. The boys stared at her as the whole wall seemed to shake.

"Beg pardon?" asked Terry.

"Well," she started, unsure how much it mattered and how mad they'd be. "I don't think she'll come here, if she does what my Harry did she'll pop back up where she left – near the History of Magic classroom."

Harry's face went red. "Why the Hell didn't you say this before Granger?" he demanded. "Why wouldn't she come to where the spell is, this is-"

"Perfect," finished Terry with a grin. "Why the Hell would she want to come to Amityville when she can land back in a nice, safe classroom."

"And Draco should be there to look after her," added Hermione positively, but this only made Harry thunder more.

"No – that's not a helping thing," Terry said to her.

"Oh sod it," she huffed. She whipped around and started going through all the kitchen drawers, banging them open and slamming them shut. What an ungrateful git, she thought bitterly. Did he have any idea how difficult this spell was? And Terry was right, Sarah would be a lot safer than they were right now. Eventually she found what she was looking for in – some parchment, ink and a quill. The ink was a little dry but it would do. She turned again and thrust it into Harry's hands.

"Write Sarah a letter." He opened his mouth to ask why but she was one step ahead of him. "Tell her how to activate the return spell. We'll then infuse it with the potion, put the charms on it, then send it through to where she's gone. If there's something personal of hers in here that would help." Harry scowled at her then snatched the items from her hands and slumped down at the large kitchen table. "Leave some room for me," she told him sternly. "I want to write a message to Draco."

It seemed to take Harry an age to write a message, and she had to remind him twice how to do the activation spell, which irked them both. Hermione and Terry sat with their wands trained tensely on the door. Finally he was done, and (after dropping one of Sarah's hair bands in her lap) he pulled his wand out whilst Hermione wrote.

"Dear Draco," she began, but then found she was stuck for words herself. Part of her wanted to write something hugely sentimental, about her desire to get him back to his reality and see him one last time. The other part had no Earthly idea why. I mean, yeah, she thought, he did kiss me, but that was bizarre at best? This was still a Malfoy. Slightly confused, she just wrote; "I hope you and Sarah are as well as can be under the circumstances. Harry has written instructions on how to activate this charmed letter to get you home. We hope to see you soon, Hermione."

Not wanting the boys to see what she'd written, she stuffed it straight into an envelope marked 'Sarah Potter and Draco Malfoy' – originally Terry had written 'that Slytherin git' but she'd made him rub it out. Hoping the potion had had enough time to simmer she began the enchantment, carefully enunciating the words so as to not make a mistake. The door was creaking now under the weight of so many bodies pressed against it; Hermione tried not to listen but her hands were shaking. It could only be the magic holding the wood in place now, and Terry and Harry were not exactly well trained having missed so much school.

She pushed it from her mind. This was no different to an exam, she told herself as she breathed slowly in and out. A really, really important exam.

There was a very loud splintering noise that forced her to look up. She bit her tongue so as not to cry out – if she messed up the incantation now she'd have to start over. But it wasn't easy, because there was now a panel missing in the kitchen door, and several cursed residents of Godric's Hollow were reaching their arms through. Terry and Harry threw several more spells that stopped them getting any further, and Hermione made herself tear her eyes away from the sight and carry on.

"Hermione!" yelled Terry. "For God's sake hurry up! We can't hold them!"

Hermione carried on muttering the spell under her breath. Just a little longer, she though, just hang in there. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Harry look wildly round the room and seize a kitchen chair by its back. With impressive force he began beating back the arms of the zombies, which cracked sickeningly every time he broke one. They retreated, crying pitifully, only to be replaced by fresh ones. He didn't seem to care he was repeatedly crossing through the protective barrier he and Terry had created.

"My family aren't dead," she heard him growl to himself. "Not my family, not mine."

Suddenly, the letter began to vibrate and glow a faint green colour, and Hermione couldn't help but cry out in delight as it floated out of her hand and hovered. "We did it!" she squealed, making the boys look. "It's worked!"

But as she gave her wand one last flick, sending the letter into oblivion, a zombie who normally went by the name of Lily Potter gave an extra long reach, and connected her hand with that of her son's.

"_NO!" _screamed Hermione, but the damage was done. Just as Parvati had before, Harry slumped and dropped his wand. After a matter of seconds he snapped open his milky white eyes and moaned.

Terry tripped over his feet as he scramble backwards, hauling himself the other side of the kitchen table, but for now at least they were safe. Although Harry had passed through from their side of the magical barrier with the chair, he could not now come back. He just kept walking into the invisible shield over and over as the other townsfolk tried to pull down the kitchen door.

"Did you do it?" gasped Terry, eyes wide and focused on his friend. Hermione nodded, horrified.

"Then let's get the fuck outta Dodge," he urged, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the back door.

xxx

Sarah stomped up the stairs, hands stuffed into the pockets of her skirt. The noise of her boots connecting with the stone floor echoed around the empty corridor. Dean had already pointed out they would soon be pushing curfew but she had other things on her mind.

"Hey – Sarah – wait up!" called Seamus from behind her, but she didn't even pause. A few steps behind her the boys had an unconscious Draco Malfoy draped over their shoulders, with Ginny was magically taking some of the weight with a spell. Sarah could hear Draco's feet scraping along the floor every now and again. She hadn't turned to look at them since they left the hospital wing, just shouted back to them whenever she was unsure if they were keeping up.

"Where are we going?" asked Dean for the second time, but the youngest Potter simply turned the corner and carried on to her destination. It was time to start taking matters into her own hands.

With some force she pushed open the old History of Magic door and marched inside. It looked just how she had left it a few days ago with the chairs and desks pushed to the edges of the classroom. Peeves had added some more rude words to the blackboard though.

"Put him down," she instructed the others, pointing to the floor. Carefully, they laid Draco on his back. Then she looked at them. They stood, waiting for a response, or more instructions.

Sarah regarded them sadly; they were all wrong. She'd watched Seamus die herself, a helpless child caught in a whirlwind. She remembered her mother telling her she couldn't go round and play with Ginny Weasley anymore. Dean Thomas had only just come to Hogwarts. She felt a pang of grief.

"I'm sorry," she said. Without a moment's pause she arched her wand and send them crashing back out into the hall way. They cried out as their bodies smacked into the wall, but before they could protest she flicked her wand again and the door slammed close. After several of Sirius' best locking charms she turned back to face the room and the boy lying on its floor. The other students were calling out to her, one of them banged the door a couple of times, but she pushed them out of her mind. They didn't belong with each other. They were nothing.

She walked and stood over Draco's prone figure, then looked up to the ceiling. "This is where Harry crossed over," she shouted to the room. "This is where he left from last November, without casting any spell. Is that what happened to us?" she demanded. She could hear the storm still brewing outside, and somewhere not too far away a clap of thunder sounded. "How did Draco and I get here? Is it something about this room?" she cried, turning around, looking all over.

"I'm so _sick _of this!" she screamed, balling her hands into fists. "I want to go home! I want to see my family, I want to go back where I belong!" She started pacing round the room, her right hand tightening so hard on the wand it was in danger of breaking. "This isn't fair, we did the spell, what more do you want?" She levitated one of the chairs and smashed it into the wall. This brought a chorus of cries from the other side of the door.

"Where did the others go? If we leave will they come back?" She turned around the room again frustrated, and hurtled another chair into splinters. "I want answers! I don't want to stay here anymore! I want to go home!" She could feel the tears sliding down her face as thunder and lightning blitzed across the suddenly grey sky. The floor was starting to tremble beneath her feet and she felt a thrill of determination run through her.

"Harry said he lost his temper," she said quietly, her eyes scanning the room. "Sirius told me; he lost his temper so badly he triggered the leap. He was standing right here."

She crossed the room again and stopped by Draco, pale and helpless at her feet. "Well do you see this, do you? _Do you!"_ she screamed out, her voice competing with the storm. The ground was shaking so hard now it was almost difficult to keep balance. "This here – this is me – _losing my FUCKING temper!" _

She raised all the furniture she could from the trembling floor and hurtled it towards the large stained glass window. She needn't have bothered though. The window exploded, just like it did before, sending fragments of shattered glass in every direction. Sarah screamed and flung her arms in front of her face, breaking the spell so all the chairs crashed to the ground. The wind howled through its new outlet, screaming just like she was. The thunder boomed and the lightening cracked, and young Sarah Potter felt the whole room spin as she fell to the hard stone floor.

And then there was nothing but black.

xxx

Ginny Weasley held her breath. The floor had definitely stopped shaking, and the storm seemed to have gone as quickly as it appeared. Her and the boys had their ears pressed against the History of Magic door; that crazy little Potter girl had been doing an awful lot of shouting and screaming, but now there was nothing.

"Hello?" she called out cautiously. "Sarah, are you okay?" Nothing. Seamus shrugged and tried the handle, but it was still locked tight. "Hello?" she tried again.

They waited a minute or two, feeling confused. "Shall we go get a teacher?" asked Dean after a while. But just was Ginny was going to nod her head, there was a noise behind the door, a sort of scraping noise. They looked at the wood as if that would let them see through, and then the handle rattled. There was some faint cursing, then suddenly the classroom door swung open.

Draco Malfoy stood before them, rubbing his head and scowling.

"Why the bloody Hell did you lock me in a classroom, Weasley?" he snarled. Ignoring him and looking around into the room, Ginny saw it was a total mess.

It was also totally empty.


	5. Be Back Before Dawn

Okay, to recap, at the end of Chapter Four...

Our main hero Harry arrived in Limbo, which now looks like a Medieval battlefield, and met Godric Gryffindor, Alex, Merlin and the Sirius that fell through the veil. He was told that he has to save all of everything that's ever existed from unravelling at the hand of Voldemort, the Voldemort he defeated in Germany in the first story.

Other Harry has spread his research on the floor outside the library with Neville and Luna helping him, Ron and Hermione are on their way. All he can think of is Sirius.

Ron and the three Americans were attacked by Rodriguez as he knows Ron's the prophecy, and they fled down a mine shaft.

Hermione was in the zombie town and made it to the Potters' place to do the spell. Parvati then Harry got 'bitten' but her and Terry completed the spell to bring Sarah and Draco back, just as...

Sarah brought Draco up to the History of Magic classroom and lost her temper in an attempt to throw themselves back home, much like Harry did at the beginning of the first story.

xxxxxxxxxx

Chapter Five -

Be Back Before Dawn

Sarah shook her head and blinked her eyes in an unsuccessful attempt to cease the ringing in her ears. She smacked her right temple and that seemed to help a bit.

She was lying in the dark on something soft, and a small amount of moonlight filtered around what seemed to be curtains. Had it worked? Was she back?

"Draco?" she called out into the blackness. "Are you there?" She held her breath and listened; she was obviously alone in the room. Still though, there was something that was making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Where was she? Where was he?

Very carefully she felt next to her and deduced she must be on a bed, so keeping her movements as quiet as possible she fumbled about in her skirt pocket to find her wand. "Lumos," she whispered, and tried to keep the light as small as possible. As soon as it lit though she blew out a sigh of relief – she knew where she was! She leapt off the bed, _her_ bed. This was her room, she was back, the jump had worked. "There's no place like home!" she cried humorously to herself and twirled round. She grabbed one of the stuffed bears Sirius had given her, the one that was far too big to take to school, and squeezed to so hard the seams were in danger of bursting. "I did it Rupert, I did it!" she sang and waltzed him round the room. Her glee was so great she only paused for a moment to wonder why she was in Godric's Hollow and not the History of Magic classroom, and where on Earth her friend was. "I must have _really _wanted to see mum and dad," she told the teddy with a laugh.

As soon as she remembered her parents she spun Rupert around, dropping him back on the bed, then grabbed the door handle and danced out into the hall. All the lights were off, which made Sarah worry. What if they weren't here? Where else would they be? "Mum?" she called out as she flicked on all the switches. Light flooded the landing as she skipped down the stairs. She pushed the doors open to Harry's and her parents' rooms on the middle floor, turning on those lights as well, but still there was no sign of life. "Hmm," she muttered in displeasure. Her euphoria on returning home was starting to fade now there was no one to greet her. It wasn't fair. Maybe she should stick her head in the fire and call Hogwarts, she'd seen Sirius do it many times. There had to be people there, they might even know where Draco was.

Suddenly she heard a noise coming from downstairs, and excitement shot through her again. "Mum? Dad?" she cried, dashing along the corridor towards the next set of stairs. But at the top she grabbed the banister and stopped. What was that moaning? And was there a draft? Gingerly she edged her foot down one step, then another. Yes, it was definitely moaning, and quite a lot of it. By the time she'd crept half way down she could see the edge of the living room, enough to gather the front window was smashed. That was obviously the source of the draft, but it also looked like there was quite a bit of blood smeared on the walls and what shards were still attached to the frame.

An icy cold sensation shot through Sarah's insides in panic. What had happened to her family?

At that moment a blood stained figure stumbled round the corner, his eyes were white like ping pong balls and his left arm looked badly broken. He was so transformed it took a moment to recognise him as her own father. "Dad," she shrieked in hysterical relief, and jumped two steps to throw her arms around him. But the moan that then escaped his mouth stopped her dead. It was so inhuman, unearthly, she actually walked back up the two steps she'd just jumped. "Dad, what's wrong?" she stammered.

In response to her question another figure, an unfamiliar, older Asian man, rounded the corner from the living room, his arms outstretched and groping. A jolt of blue electrical current sparked on the other man and crossed over to her dad. Then there were more people, all covered in varying degrees of blood and blue sparks, coming into the hallway and, now, up the stairs.

Sarah couldn't help it. She knew it was her dad, she should help him, but instinct kicked in. The spell flew from her wand before she had time to think; the people below her were blasted off their feet as an immense explosion tore through the lower level of the house and blew out what little glass was left in the windows. She gasped lungfuls of air as she scrambled back up the stairs, desperate to be anywhere but here. Even if it meant getting herself trapped.

xxx

Draco had felt his eyes roll into the back of his head as soon as the letter had split into three and vanished. He'd also felt his knees buckle and turn to jelly, the way only impending unconscious could do. So he'd expected to hit the stone floor with quite an impressive thud. But it never happened.

The darkness disappeared as soon as it arrived. He may not have slammed into the stone, but he was still lying on the floor, and this confused him. He screwed up his eyes and inhaled deeply, concentrating on each breath as it came in and went out. There was a dull throb in his head, but it didn't feel like concussion. A moan escaped his lips and he curled up onto his side, bringing his knees to his chest. A wave of nausea swept over him but was gone just as quickly.

Somebody poked him. "Hey mate, you alright?" Draco's only response was to curl up tighter. The tickling sensation on his face told him he was lying on grass, which only confused him further. He'd had enough – his life wasn't all that amazing but he wanted it back. He wanted Hermione back. Was it too much to ask to go home?

He heard the voice that poked him whisper to someone else. "They're not normally like this." Draco ignored that as it made no sense to him, but also because a thought struck him; what if he was home? What if he had fallen unconscious and Sarah or Dumbledore had done something in his absence?

Spurred on by the thrill of genuine hope, Draco blinked open eyes glued together from sleep. His theory seemed even more likely as he stretched out stiff limbs and flexed his fingers. How long had he been out?

"Malfoy?"

He froze at the use of his surname. He couldn't immediately place the voice, but as he sat up and looked around, Harry Potter was standing beside a very tall man in his twenties. Was he the one that poked him?

"Potter?" he replied. Which Harry was it? Where _was_ he? There were quite a lot of people standing around him, too many to register at once, and all he could see was the grass underneath them and vague colours between their legs.

"Are you alright?" asked the tall guy as Draco shakily found his feet and brushed himself down.

"I've been worse," he admitted as he stood up straight to face them. "But I've probably been better too." Were they in some kind of camp he wondered, scanning over their heads. "I was sending a letter," he added, as people seemed to be waiting for an explanation or something. "I think it knocked me unconscious and now I'm here."

"A mail box knocked you out?" asked an American boy with red hair. He looked vaguely familiar to Draco.

"No," said Draco, biting back the 'you idiot' he would have added back in the old days. "I charmed it to find...well you," he said, looking at Harry. "It might not have been you, could have been another you – there a lots of them apparently." He sighed. This wasn't making sense even to himself. He rubbed his head, and realised that the migraine that had been plaguing him for the past few days had all but gone. At least one thing was looking up.

"Draco?" Harry asked, his eyes suddenly wide.

"Yeah?" he replied after a beat.

Harry seemed to be struggling to find the words. "You're not...not the Malfoy who was just here?"

"Well I try not to be a Malfoy any day of the week," Draco told him with a touch of good humour. "But no, I can assure you I was in the History of Magic classroom, and now I seem to be in a field."

Harry's mouth hung open and the tall guy frowned. "I think what happened to you has happened to him," he said.

"What?" Draco demanded, looking round at all the staring faces. He was starting to get quite irked. "What's happened to me, where am I?"

"Limbo," answered a small middle aged man. He was standing at the elbow of the tall man, though Draco swore he hadn't been there a second ago.

"Limbo," repeated Draco, slightly incredulously. "Oh right, that just clears everything up doesn't it? Limbo!" He took a step forward and then felt slightly giddy so stopped. "What in the Fairying Forrest is _Limbo _when it's at home?!"

"The place in between realities," the man said simply. He dressed like the very old men his father would entertain during Draco's childhood; regal almost, heavily embroidered robes and a dress hat to match. Draco was never allowed to talk to them. "Were you perhaps trying to travel from one to another?"

Draco stared. Ultimately, that was exactly what he'd been trying to do, but that was a hell of a guess to make. "How did you know that?"

Harry turned to the little man. "It's him isn't it, from Germany, from the other reality?" The man nodded. With an elated cry Harry flung his arms around a shocked and confused Draco and embraced him like a brother.

"I got your letter!" he cried, leaning back to face him. "When you and Sarah tried to leave I ended up in another place by myself, but I got the letter and it sent me here!" He turned back to the little man, suddenly concerned. "Why is he here though, where's Sarah?"

"I'm sure I don't know who Sarah is Mr Potter," he replied condescendingly, "but it would seem somebody else tried to activate a leap without a spell, just pure force. Much as you did last year," he added scornfully. "Perhaps Mr Malfoy was pulled along in the wake and came to this realm of his own fruition."

"My own...but I wanted to go home!" Draco said accusingly. He looked at Harry cautiously. "Is it really you?" he whispered. Before Harry could respond, the grand little man answered his earlier query.

"Did you really want to go home?" he suggested. "Or was it more the company you desired?"

As he spoke somebody pushed their way through the crowd behind him, and Draco turned around to look. A slightly flustered girl emerged from the body of people. Her hair was wet and she looked like she'd got dressed in a hurry. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of what was the centre of attention.

In that moment, without any hesitation or doubt, Draco knew. He knew with all his heart who this girl truly was.

"Hermione," he breathed.

xxx

"That," said Harry, turning purposefully to Godric. "Is the single weirdest thing I have ever seen. And I've seen a lot."

He reflected on how quickly and to what degree things seemed to change in his life. Whatever the ratio was, it had definitely spiked dramatically in the last few hours. Having discovered he had been brought to a realm between realities to save everything that had ever been created, Harry had met Sirius' cry to action by lying flat on his back, closing his eyes, and refusing to speak to anybody about anything until his head was firmly back in the game. And not spinning out of control towards the Milky Way.

People had drifted off eventually leaving him to his mutterings and carefully measured breathing. Everyone except Godric, who had sat beside him, playing with grass until he was coherent enough for conversation. Harry had remained lying on the ground, but listened when Ric began to cheerfully explain about him and his army. Apparently Godric used to be quite the general back in the day, eventually retiring to help set up Hogwarts with the other founders. When Harry enquired as to how he ended up in limbo Godric raised an eyebrow and told him never to turn his back on a Slytherin.

At this moment, their very own Slytherin had dropped like a sack of bricks not ten feet away from them. Harry and Ric had both scrambled to their feet to see what was wrong, but they hadn't had to wait long to find out. As soon as Draco was up on his own feet Harry could see that's who he was – _Draco _– not Malfoy. The way he carried himself, his voice, the words he spoke with it. He only needed the nodded confirmation from Merlin to establish this was the Draco he called brother before throwing his arms around his friend.

The Other-World Hermione, who had risked having a shower (or tipping-a-bucket-of-water-over-your-head as it was more commonly referred to here) had come dashing back still soaking wet. And just as Harry had looked and seen his Draco, Draco looked and saw his Hermione. She barely had time to register him before he crossed the distance between them, scooped up her dripping hair up in his hands, pulled their faces together and kissed her like a drowning man who'd just found oxygen.

Although this was obviously a nice happy sight, as opposed to the carnage Harry was normally thrust into, he snapped his head away immediately, incapable of watching.

"Aw it's not weird," replied Godric, grinning. "It's sweet." Harry suspected he was winding him up.

"The closest they've ever got in my universe was when she slapped him in the third year," he informed him curtly. "Are they done yet?"

"Y-wait...yes, they're done." Harry ignored the look on his new friend's face and turned round again. The two of them were gasping and looking into each other's eyes, completely oblivious to who was staring at them, which was everybody.

"Is it really you?" Hermione whispered.

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, it's some other Malfoy who's gone mental – yes of course it's him. The Draco from your world," he added to clarify. He had almost said 'my Draco' – that's how he thought of him. But he couldn't really claim that title when he clearly belonged to the girl in front of them.

Hermione gave a sheepish smile, but Draco beamed like Harry never thought possible. He was so _alive_. "Alight, alright, nothing to see," cried Godric, scooting people away. The Not-So-Dead Sirius disappeared back into a tent with Alex and Merlin, The American-'Muggle' Ron sat back down by the fire eyeing up the bacon and eggs, and everyone else drifted out of earshot.

"I'm Godric," said the tall man, extending his hand out towards Draco. The blond boy shook it once then stopped.

"As in Gryffindor?" Ric's crooked smile lit up his face again.

"Yeah, seems a fair bit of time's passed since I was stomping around though."

"Try a thousand years," said Draco, finally dropping the man's hand. He stared, a little gobsmacked. "So – you're like Harry's great, great, great, great, great, great granddad."

"Oh yeah!" said Hermione with realisation.

"I think I missed out a few greats."

"You're related to me?" Ric asked Harry, suddenly surprised. He nodded, remembering himself.

"I'm the Heir of Gryffindor apparently," he replied, like he was telling him his birth sign.

"You didn't die young?" Hermione stated, looking Godric up and down. "Why do you look like that – and why do you sound like you're from Hackney?"

Godric grinned and looped his thumbs into the belt that held his sword up. "Technically," he said, "I didn't die at all. Salazar wanted to stick me in this place forever where I wouldn't bother him." He smiled and winked at Draco, though to Harry it sounded hideous – stuck in Limbo for eternity? "But you can look however you want now that there's – y'know – form to the place. I'd much rather be twenty six than ninety four, wouldn't you?" That definitely made sense to Harry. "And I sound normal to me," he added, answering Hermione's second question.

"Maybe there's some kind of translation happening automatically," she said, looking round as if to find the source. Harry noticed her hand was firmly entwined with Draco's. _'Wrong,' _chimed a voice in Harry's mind.

"So..." said Draco slowly. "We're in between realities – how?"

"There's another Hermione in my body – this is where the other you was when you were in his world. There was so many of us we forced Limbo to take shape."

"Alex gave me a pendant in the real world, it dragged me here when I tried to get home with your letter," said Harry, explaining his side of things.

"Most people came here accidently, like Sirius," said Godric, nodding towards the tent where Harry's Godfather-Who-Wasn't had gone. "People think they're dead because they leave, but they don't get to where most people go for whatever reason."

"Who's Sirius is dead?" asked Draco, frowning as he looked at Harry, but he shook his head.

"It's the Sirius from the third reality I was in just now, not either of ours."

"This is scrambling my brain," said Draco, rubbing his hand through his hair. "Okay, the final, million Galleon question. _Why _are we all here? Why was Harry dragged here, how did I get here, and why have all the lost souls been assembled into an army?" He paused. "Sorry that was four questions."

"Merlin said you're here maybe because somebody tried a leap without the correct spell and your desperation to get back to your girlfriend pulled you off course," Godric reiterated.

"Okay," said Draco taking a steady breath. "I think I have a fifth question to do with another dead wizard."

Harry sighed. "We're here because the Lord Voldemort I defeated in Germany last year is apparently going to find his way here and try and take over, thereby destroying everything that ever existed in any and all of the universes, and we – I – have to stop him."

There was a moment of silence as Draco took this in, and the other three reflected on the enormity of it all. The blond boy inhaled through his teeth.

"Ahh," he said, letting the breath out again. "That old chestnut."

xxx

Hermione realised two things simultaneously as she and Terry Boot ran out the back door of the Potter's house in Godric's Hollow and away from the cursed towns folk.

Firstly, the storm that had been grumbling away for the last few days in both universes had suddenly, and violently broke. She gasped as the rain lashed down with tremendous force, plastering her hair to her head and practically blinding her. Secondly, she had left her boots on the living room floor.

She gave a strangled cry as she stumbled to a halt and looked incredulously down at her soaking feet.

"Granger, let's move!" cried Terry and grabbed her hand, but Hermione shook it off.

"Look!" she cried miserably, pointing at her socks. "I don't know how I didn't notice."

Terry stared for one moment, then burst out laughing. Hermione felt the heat rise on her neck despite the rain.

"It's not funny!" she snapped as he held his sides.

"No, it's hilarious," he gasped, trying to straighten up. He was slightly hysterical in Hermione's opinion, and she continued to glare at him.

"Do I need to remind you," she informed him curtly, shouting over the din of the rain. "That there is a hoard of zombies trying to push through that rather feeble barrier you put up, and probably more around the front of the house. How long before they work out how to get round to the back?"

"Oh untwist your knickers," said Terry, "that's easily the funniest thing that's happened all week."

"We have to _run away_," replied Hermione, in case he wasn't quite clear on this point. "How can I do that in socks?"

"Such a girl," said Terry with a fake sigh. He unlaced his right trainer and threw it at her. She looked at it, then looked back at him. "Well put it on then Bolly-Knickers," he grinned, unlacing the other shoe.

"But, then you won't have anything on your feet," she spluttered through the downpour. He threw her the second half of the pair.

"Wow, you really are the top of the class aren't you," he said with half a grin and crossed his arms. "C'mon, put them on, or do they clash with your eyes?"

Scowling she shoved the wet trainers onto her wet feet. Every single inch of her was sodden by now so she didn't really notice any difference. She knelt down to tie the laces as tight as possible; they actually weren't that much bigger than her own feet which was a relief. Leaning round the door frame, Hermione was able to see the barrier Terry had erected was still intact, which was more than she could say for the door. Several zombies were pushing against the invisible wall with the other Harry at the front, but it didn't seem to be quite the mob it was before.

"Are you sure you'll be alight?" she asked sceptically as she stood up, which made him scowl.

"It's night of the living dead in there and you're worrying about my feet?" He grabbed her hand again and began marching her towards the back of the garden. "Besides, I'm basically like a hobbit. Except for the height. And the hair. And maybe the stamina...I guess you could say I was a Ninja hobbit."

Hermione shook her head and swept her hair out of her face. The water was running in streams down her spine and on the inside of her jeans. Lightning struck, illuminating the garden that she was glad to see was totally zombie free. It was followed immediately by a great crash of thunder that seemed to shake the ground.

They reached the fence at the back and Terry crouched, cupping his hands about a meter off the ground. She looked at him expectantly. "C'mon I'll give you a boost," he shouted over the roar of the wind. Realising there was a fence that ran around the entirety of the garden and this would be the only way out, she rolled her eyes and put her foot obediently into his waiting hands. There was a dense forest that surrounded the entire property; she wondered if any of the zombies had worked out how to get round.

She bounced and grabbed the top of the wooden fence, straining her eyes for anyone lurking in the foliage beyond. She hoped they'd be lit up with electric current, but she couldn't be sure.

Suddenly she felt her and Terry's bodies slammed into the wooden fence, as if the wind had violently decided to change direction. Her foot slipped from his hands, and there was nothing for it but to crash straight into the mud below, taking Terry with her.

"Blurgh!" he cried, wiping dirt from his face. "What the bloody Hell was that?"

Hermione pointed wordlessly across the garden, through the pouring rain, to the source of the disturbance.

It was an explosion.

And it had come from inside the house.

xxx

Ron and the others had not been walking long. Well, they had not had nearly enough peace and quiet for his liking that was for sure. Abbey was in the lead, her wand held high, while the boys traipsed behind. The mine shaft twisted and turned, and the blond cheerleader seemed very confident of their direction despite Ron's conviction that every tunnel looked exactly the same.

His head was still pulsating and his stomach growled. Now that they were far away it seemed kind of stupid they had run away from Rodriguez like that, why hadn't they just gone back to Crabapple or something? He voiced this opinion to Abbey.

"Oh honestly," she signed. "Do you really think we're gonna scurry around here for the rest of the day?" She looked back at him over her shoulder and he shrugged. "We _are_ goin' to Madam Crabapple, this is the secret way. It just also happens to be the long way."

She turned back round and walked straight into a wall.

There was moment of stunned silence as she rebounded away from the stone surface blocking their way, her face wide with pain and shock, then she doubled up and grabbed her forehead. "Owww!" she cried, then smacked the stone with her palm. "Holly mama of God an' all her wacky nephews!"

"Did we go the wrong way?" asked Chris, which Ron thought was quite a bold move as Abbey hit the wall again.

"What in tarnation? No we did not go the wrong way, this wall ain't supposed to be here!"

"Kind of...looks like it's supposed to be there," said A.J. warily as he inspected the edges and the wooden beams supporting it.

"Well it ain't," she snapped, rubbing the graze on her forehead that was already bruising up. "I know these tunnels like the back of my hand."

"How-" began Chris.

"None of your damn business." She ran her own hands of the stone wall. "There must be somethin' here."

Ron leant in and looked and the stone and the beams; they looked like all the other walls to him, and just as old. "Alohomora," he said on the off chance, tapping the brick with his wand. Nothing happened, but Abbey's eyes lit up and she started firing all kinds of spells at the wall. He stepped back.

"What are you doing?" Chris asked.

"Tryin' to open the entrance – this is the only way through an' I reckon we just have to use our heads to get past."

"Why would it be concealed though?" asked A.J. "With a wall?" Ron shrugged.

"It's a magic school – the staircases move, paintings swap around for chats, and some doors only open if you can find them."

The black boy seemed to think about this, then he walked over to the wall. He picked up a loose stone from the ground and held it a moment, considering. He threw it up and caught it, paused, and then scratched a large rectangle from the ground up, to as high as he could reach. He then followed this with a small circle in the middle on the left; it was a door. He knocked three times. They all stared at him.

"That's how you get into London Below," he said simply.

"They did it in Beetlejuice too," added Chris.

"Thought it was worth a try."

Abbey blinked. "I have no idea what either of you just said, but that's plain stupid." Ron was just about to agree, when the wall creaked. They turned slowly back to look. Some dust was falling gently to the floor, then the wall creaked again. "Well I'll be damned," whispered Abbey. Where A.J. had drawn the faint lines with the stone he was still holding, a crack suddenly appeared on three sides. It began to edge away, and gradually the stone door swung towards them.

"I cannot believe that worked," said Ron, his eyebrows raised.

The doorway stood expectantly before them, and beyond was pitch black. A warm breeze was wafting intermittently through the opening and past their legs.

"Do we go in?" asked Chris nervously.

Abbey frowned. "I guess so," she said slowly. "This is the only way, and we did get it open." She took a cautious step forward, and the boys followed. Ron heard A.J. mutter behind him.

"But why was it closed anyway?" he asked under his breath.

They crossed the threshold slowly; it was impossible to see, but there were faint noises coming from ahead. Ron couldn't make out what they were, but they didn't seem too threatening. He was just about to light his wand when there was a definite noise from behind them that was very worrying indeed. The stone door they had just created creaked, and suddenly swung back into place. Abbey gasped as they were plunged into total darkness, but it didn't last for long. Blue torches started to light one by one in quick succession along the wall, illuminating the room where they stood then making its way backwards.

They were no longer in the mine shaft, that was for sure. It was more like a large stone anti-chamber with a very high ceiling. They weren't able to see the full extent of the room until the lights reached the other end, and it wasn't until then that they could see it wasn't a warm breeze at their feet at all.

It was breathing.

Ron felt his knees go weak. He couldn't really find the words to greet the sight before him, and neither did the others. They, likewise, just stared open mouthed. After several seconds that felt like several minutes, Ron felt his voice clamber out of his mouth.

"Hello Fluffy," he said in a tone that was both defeated and hysterical at the same time.

"Fluffy!?" shrieked Abbey as the massive three headed dog started to stir sleepily. He yawned and blinked his many eyes in a confused sort of way. He seemed unable to process the intrusion into his home, but he was quickly getting used to it. A growl escaped one of his mouths as another head shook.

"What do we do – the door's gone," hissed A.J. stepping backwards and patting the blank wall. His eyes never left the dog. Ron knew they had maybe seconds before Fluffy fully regained his senses and ate them for lunch.

"Music," he cried, his voice horse. "Anything, we need music."

"Wh-" began Abbey.

"It puts him to sleep!" he cried. They didn't have time for explanations, the giant dog's hackles were raised and he took a slow step towards the group. His growls were shaking Ron's teeth.

"Someone sing!"

Abbey took a deep breath and opened her mouth, but it wasn't her who sang. "Sometimes I wish I could," came Chris' voice, somewhat strangled by terror. "Turn back time, impossible as it may seem." Fluffy stopped walking. He was flat but it was doing the trick. "But I wish I could, so bad, ba-by." Fluffy's eyes fluttered and he slumped where he stood. The group edged forward as Chris continued to sing. A door was now visible on the far wall the other side of the dog curling up into a ball.

"Quit playin' games with my heart," crooned Chris as Abbey joined in with him. They tip-toed along as Fluffy started to snore. "My heart, my heart. Before you tear us apart." They were harmonising now, Ron thought that was a little unnecessary. "I should have known from the start." They reached the door and eased it open. "The start," muttered Chris as they wrestled with the latch. "Before you got in my heart."

They slammed the door shut as Fluffy barked loudly. They gasped for breath as relief swept through them. Abbey laughed slightly hysterically and smiled.

"With all the millions of rock CDs scattered in your car," said A.J. good humouredly. "You picked the Backstreet Boys to save our lives?"

"Hey, I panicked," replied Chris.

Ron looked about their new surroundings. They were back in the mine shaft, but it was already apparent that it stretched off into another large room about twenty feet ahead of them.

"Well what fresh Hell is this?" sighed Abbey, and stomped off to the new room, wand poised. The boys took only a moment to consider before chasing after her. Who knew what was down there? Abbey stopped just beyond the threshold of the door, put her hands on her hips and stared upwards. "Huh," was all she said.

Ron peered over her shoulder as Chris and A.J. stopped by her side. It only took a moment for Ron to realised what they were looking at, and he gave a heartfelt groan. "What are they, birds?" asked Chris.

"No," grumbled Ron, and sat back down on the other side, facing back the way they came. "They are not birds." He stared at the blank wall and could faintly hear Fluffy barking and growling from beyond.

"Well what are they then?" demanded Abbey, as the three of them came back out to join him. He rubbed his forehead and didn't look at them, even though he knew they were watching. What did this mean, why was it happening? He started trying to piece together all the events since they'd got to the school, even before. He decided it was far too much; living like a Muggle, finding Salem, falling into the pensive, the fight with Rodriguez. Why was everything happening at once, all on top of each other? It was very inconsiderate of the universe.

Someone wacked their trainer into his own, and he dully looked up to see Abbey, unsurprisingly, scowling. "What are those bird things?" she snapped again. "And come to mention it, how in the Fairyin' Forest did you know how to calm the damn dog down?"

Ron stared at them with tired eyes. Would they believe him? He wasn't even really sure himself.

"Because I met him before," he said with only a little resignation, it was the truth after all. "And I met those bird things at the same time, only they're not birds, they're keys."

"Keys?" said A.J. with a frown.

"Yep," Ron replied, almost cheerfully. "Keys with wings. There are broomsticks in the corner, and you have to catch the right key to open the next door." A.J. continued to frown, then darted back into the room. He returned a moment later with a Nimbus 2001 held in his hands, and a look of disbelief on his face.

"These don't really fly though, do they?" he said weakly.

"Of course they do," said Abbey, snatching it off him to inspect it. "Okay, when were you down here though," she asked Ron. "You only just got to the school-" But Ron's head shaking stopped her flow of thought.

"It wasn't here, it was at my school, in my world." He stood up so he could face them properly and dusted off his trousers. "The teachers were protecting something and they put up a bunch of charms and stuff to keep people away, it was kind of like this, only there was a killer plant, and a giant chess board, and-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa – hold up," said Abbey, waving him down with her free hand. "They were protectin' somethin' that bad at a school? Why wasn't it at Fort Knox, or Gringotts?" Ron rubbed his head again.

"Because Dumbledore didn't think it was safe enough. Maybe he had it at Hogwarts here like in my world, then with You-Know-Who running round he moved it here, to this school? Crabapple said they were friends."

He couldn't help but smile. That was pretty good reasoning if he didn't say so himself.

No one spoke for a moment, lost in thought. "What were they hiding?" asked A.J. eventually.

"The Philosopher's Stone," he replied to three blank faces. "It um...it's this little red stone," he explained, "there's only one of them and if you use it, it can like give you loads of treasure and it can heal you, I mean you could live forever."

"Aah," said Abbey with a smile. "Y'all mean the Sorcerer's Stone – we learned about that in History of Magic." Ron scowled, he knew what it was called, they went to enough trouble to find it.

"No, it was definitely-"

"Was someone dying?" Interrupted A.J. "I mean, why did you go after it before?" he probed further. "If it was so well hidden and protected, how did you know about it and why on Earth brave a three headed dog to find it?"

Ron slumped on the wall and thought back to all those years ago. That was the start of all those crazy life threatening shenanigans; a set up to a duel that almost made them Fluffy sized doggie treats. Bloody Draco bloody Malfoy.

"Long story," he said simply, "but You-Know-Who had someone trying to steal it to heal himself from where Harry defeated him as a baby." Abbey visibly shuddered.

"You don't think that's what Rodriguez was trying to do was it?"

Ron shrugged again. "I thought he wanted me, for the prophecy?"

"Shhh," said Chris suddenly, and everyone stopped taking. It was totally silent.

"There's nothing," whispered Ron, a little annoyed at being told to 'shh'.

"Yeah," whispered Chris back. "Exactly. Fluffy's stopped barking." He was right, Ron realised. But that wasn't necessarily a problem he thought.

"Maybe he fell back asleep by himself?" he suggested, but before the words had left his mouth he heard another noise against the quiet. Someone was singing.

"Well that can't be good," he said through dry lips.

xxx

Harry was still tearing through his impressive stack of books and notes with Luna on the floor outside the library when Ron and Hermione came racing round the corner. They paused briefly at his scattered array of resources, but Harry quickly jumped to his feet.

"It's so good to see you guys," he cried, flinging his arms around them. He still hadn't quite got over the shock of facing their alter egos, or the strange place he'd met them.

"We saw you in the Great Hall this morning," mumbled Hermione from under his arm. "You fainted."

"Different Harry," piped up Luna dreamily from the floor. She was lying belly down flicking through a book. "Easy mistake to make though."

Harry let his friends go and they stared at him; he shrugged. "A different Harry from another reality was in my body, and I went to Limbo for a while. It looked like a library," he added as an afterthought. They continued to stare. So Harry explained it again as best he could with a little more detail, and on his third attempt to get Ron to understand, Neville came hastily round the corner, a large amount of rope wound over his shoulder.

"So...you weren't you," said the red head slowly as Neville dropped his burden to the floor with a thud.

"No," confirmed Harry. "And where I went there was a different version of you two, and Draco Malfoy of all people. The Librarian guy who seemed to be running the place said versions of us four had crossed over from their own realities to all of ours, and pushed us out of our bodies and into the Limbo in between." Ron blinked.

"Then...what's the rope for?" asked Hermione equally slowly. She'd cottoned on a lot quicker as usual.

"We weren't the only people there," Harry continued. "It was like a refuge for lost souls, people who weren't really dead but weren't alive any more either." He took a deep breath. "I knew someone there."

"Who?" asked Ron cautiously. Harry paused again. Would they believe him? They seemed to this far; or would they just think he'd gone mad with grief and guilt.

"Sirius," he managed eventually. "My Sirius, who went through the veil."

Hermione gasped and her hands flew over her mouth. "It can't be," she whispered. Ron continued to look confused.

"Sirius was in the imaginary library?" Harry wasn't sure what he meant by his tone.

"Yes, as well as a little French girl, and an angry Spanish woman and-"

"Are you sure you didn't dream it?" Ron looked a little ashamed of the question as soon as it was out of his mouth. But the others were looking at him too now and he felt the irritation rise ever so slightly in him.

"Are you sure you didn't dream going to breakfast this morning?" he asked back. He snapped it slightly, but it was though impatience not animosity. He softened a little bit at his and Hermione's reproachful faces. Maybe it was easier for Neville and Luna as they'd witnessed his stormy return in Madam Pince's library. "Look, I'm sorry," he said. "I just want to hurry, I'm not sure how long it'll stay in existence, it doesn't usually have form."

"Evan I've lost you now mate," said Neville, his hands on his hips. "While what's there – Limbo? Is it even possible to go back?" Harry nodded.

"I think so."

A look of realisation dawned on Hermione. "You're going to try and rescue Sirius," she breathed, her eyebrows raised.

"Not try," Harry replied, taking the rope in his hands as he sat down. "I will rescue him, I won't let him down, not again."

Luna took some of the rope too and wrapped it round her hands. "You need the rope to go down the rabbit hole," she mused. Harry grinned at how she'd grasped his plan.

"It just needs the right enchantment or two," he agreed. "I think I've worked it out from the information here on how to cross. Only this will bring us back through again. That's why I needed you Ron, to cross in the first place."

"What can I do?" he asked almost defensively. "I don't understand anything about this." But Harry was already shaking his head.

"All I need you to do is contact your dad, explain that it's urgent."

Ron looked at his watch. "I don't know if I can mate." He showed him the clock face. "I think he's still at work – at the Ministry."

Harry smiled wider than he'd smiled in a long, long time.

"Exactly," he said. "And I need him to get me in, so I can go through the veil."

xxx

Hermione and Terry tore back towards the house. "Who's there?" yelled Terry as they skidded to a halt outside the kitchen. The invisible barrier was holding at the door, keeping the cursed townspeople in the living room and beyond. There was no sign of any normal human life, or the origin of the explosion. All the windows had been blown out though and they had to use their wands to sweep the shards safely away before they could get close enough to see into the house.

"Hello," Terry called again, leaning through the empty window pane, into the somewhat scorched kitchen. Hermione didn't blame him for not wanting to go fully inside.

"Maybe something blew up by itself?" Hermione suggested as they peered about the place. She was acutely aware such a loud noise would undoubtedly bring more zombies towards their location.

"Hermione!" a voice screeched from up above them, and she stepped out to try and peer against the rain. Terry joined her. "Terry!" cried the voice, and then suddenly they could see its origin. Sarah Potter was leaning out of one of the top floor windows, her hair and clothes already soaked. She'd just lit her wand and the illumination on her face showed not only her presence but her panic.

"Sarah!" shouted Terry with a mixture of horror and relief. "How'd you get up there?"

"The spell," said Hermione, "it must have brought her here after all."

Sarah looked incredulous. "Who the bloody Hell cares!" she screamed over the torrent of rain. "Get me down before they eat my brains!"

"Actually," Terry began, "they won't-"

"Get me down," screamed Sarah again, her eyes huge with fear. "Get me down, get me down!"

Hermione looked around for inspiration but there was nothing. Sarah must have been ten feet up at least, what could they do? She clenched at her wand and considered if using a Wingardium Leviosa would be a wise idea.

Terry though, was barely fazed. He lifted his arms in front of him and widened the stance on his legs. "Jump," he commanded.

Hermione was horrified. "Are you _insane?" _she demanded, but Terry ignored her.

"C'mon, I'll catch you," he shouted up.

Hermione looked helplessly up at the window, expecting the youngest Potter to protest, but at that moment her head snapped behind her and without a moment's pause she scrambled up onto the sill.

"You better sodding catch me!" she hollered, and leapt into the air. Hermione barely had time to react, but at the last second she mimicked Terry and stretched her arms out. Between them they managed to grab enough limbs and hair to stop her hitting the ground, although her head was only a few inches from the floor and her legs were up in the air.

"Put me down!" she shouted, twisting in their grip. They did as they were told and she stood as gracefully as she could to her feet. "What the Hell's going on?" she spluttered.

"Oh gee hun it was no trouble at all rescuing you, you're welcome," said Terry brightly, which only made Sarah scowl more.

"Why is everyone zombified! What's happened to my family!" She squared up to him and swept her sodden black hair out of her eyes, which then dropped to the ground. "And why aren't you wearing any shoes?"

Suddenly Terry's eyes widened as he looked behind the girls. "Run first, chat later," he cried and snatched Sarah's hand. Hermione was barely able to turn around to see what he'd seen before he grabbed her by the arm and legged it down the garden.

The barrier had broken. The zombies were stumbling out of the house.

By the time they reached the end of the garden, they probably had just over a minute's lead before the cursed towns people would reach them.

"Foot!" commanded Terry, and for once Sarah didn't protest. Hermione watched enviously as she deftly hoisted herself over the fence and landed on the other side. They didn't have time to hang about, so trying not to think too much about it Hermione thrust Terry's muddy trainer into his hands when he offered them, and seized the top of the fence. It was harder than it looked to heave her weight over, and just as she was balanced at the top she accidently looked back and saw how close the electrified people were. She let out an involuntary scream and toppled over the other side, landing painfully in the thick mud.

"Terry!" she cried, getting hastily back to her feet and looking up at the top of the fence. "Terry get over here!" Sarah seemed to sense her panic and started shouting too.

"Terry! Terry come on!"

There was a scuffling noise they only just heard over the rain, and then something heavy bumped into the fence, making it shudder. _"Terry!" _screamed Hermione, truly terrified now. She could hear the moaning and a voice cried out as something thumped into the wood once again.

"Terry?" called out Sarah as Hermione felt her tears mix into the rain. Not Terry as well, surely?

Suddenly an arm wacked over the top of the fence making the girls yelp and jump back. The arm was quickly followed by the electricity-free body of Terry Boot, as he hauled himself all the way over the wood and landed with a wet smack in a foetal position in the mud.

"Uuurgh," he groaned and slowly sat up. It was only then Hermione realised he had what appeared to be the vertical half of a sapling clasped in his right hand.

"My mum'll kill you when she sees you ripped her new tree up," said Sarah, folding her arms and taking deep, steady breaths.

"She'll kill me even more when she realises I hit her with it too," replied Terry with a grin. Hermione flung her arms around the boy and tried to hold back a sob. All the adrenalin of the last hour or so was ebbing away leaving her exhausted. And what was worse her headache was back. At least the three of them made it out. Now they just had to find a way to cure everyone else.

It wasn't long before they managed to motivate themselves off the ground and into the forest; the wooden fence would not hold back the zombies for long, and some of them might have already worked out ways to get around the house. Hermione suggested they head back towards the town to try and get some answers, so Sarah led the way along a vague woodland path. Their wands were held high, lit and ready for any sign of movement.

It was quiet for a long time, or as quiet as it could be with the torrential rain pounding down on them. Hermione felt shattered from the strain of listening for anyone creeping up on them. Eventually Sarah's small voice came from up ahead.

"Are my family dead?" she asked without turning round. Hermione could see the light from her wand shaking ever so slightly as it hit the trees and the ground as she passed.

"No," she replied. She wondered if she should catch her up and give her a hug, but Sarah didn't break her pace or even look round at the response, so Hermione continued to explain. "If we can reverse the spell they'll all be fine – you're parents, Harry, Parvati."

"Harry?" she repeated, finally stopping and turning to face them. "Parvati? What were they doing here, why are you here?" She thought. "Come to think of it, why the Hell am I here? I thought we'd end up back at Hogwarts, where we started, that's what the other Harry said happened to him."

"Okay, back up," said Terry coming to join them. "Who's 'we' and how did you know you were coming back, we only just did the spell."

"Spell?" she repeated blankly. "I lost my temper in the History of Magic classroom like the other Harry said he did. Draco was unconscious and I wanted to get us home."

"It must have coincided with our spell," said Hermione in wonder to Terry. "It must have snatched her as she travelled and brought her to the house."

"And again," said Sarah, " I ask why you were in my house, and what's happened to the village?"

"Well," said Terry. "When Hermione here popped up and said she was from the same place as some other Harry had come from last year, this meant something to our Harry and Parvati about getting you back. They wanted to tell your parents, but Godric's Hollow refused to let us get through to anyone at all, so we st-borrowed...we borrowed a car," he amended, looking purposefully at Hermione's glare. "We wanted to see what the problem was for ourselves."

"We think there's some kind of curse at work," Hermione explained further.

"But you can fix it?" asked Sarah. Hermione felt a twinge of doubt, but tried not to show it.

"Yeah," she said, starting to walk again. "Yeah I'm sure we can."

"How sure?" Sarah demanded, catching her up. Hermione wasn't certain but she guessed she was probably scowling.

"Pretty sure," she said, unconvincingly. Sarah stopped walking again and crossed her arms. Terry joined her.

"You said," he began in a slightly accusatory tone. "That all we had to do was find the witch or wizard that cast the spell and make them reverse it. Also that they'd have to be close by to be casting it in the first place."

"Yes," agreed Hermione.

"How do we make them reverse it?" asked Sarah.

She gave a weak grin. "You still got that tree handy Terry?" They weren't impressed, and Hermione flung her arms against the rain in frustration. "I don't actually know the incantation, I'm just working off the theory here."

"Theory!" repeated Terry incredulously. "Oh well that's just great." He began stomping off ahead.

"I know a damn sight more theory than you mister!" called Hermione after him, but he just waved the back of his hand at her and carried on stomping. She bit her lip and tried to blink back the tears that were still threatening to spill.

"You came here, because of me?" asked Sarah in that small voice again, unsuited to her usual feisty temperament. Hermione looked at her, unsure of how to respond. She was so young she reminded herself. It didn't matter she herself had been adventuring with Harry since she set foot in Hogwarts; normal Fourth Years spent the majority of their time agonising over what dress made them look least fat to impress whichever boy was destined to break their heart next.

"I told them I'd come from the reality you and Draco had travelled to – they thought he'd kidnapped you."

"Idiots. Terry you're going the wrong way!" she shouted and marched after him. He turned to see where she was pointing, changed his direction then carried on walking. "Did they believe you?" Sarah asked Hermione over her shoulder, and the girls followed Terry down the left hand pathway.

"Eventually. I said you were trying to get home, and I knew a spell to pull you back." She swept a heavy lock of hair away from her face and spat out some rain. "But the school didn't have the right ingredients and we couldn't get through the fireplace to talk to anyone in Godric's Hollow. So Harry decided we'd go in person."

"On your own," Sarah said, "without any adults?"

"That's what my Harry would have done a week ago," Hermione replied with a shrug. "And Dumbledore kind of encouraged us to, he does things like that sometimes."

"Weird," said the young Potter, shaking her head. "And everyone's a zombie?"

"They're not dead," Hermione assured her quickly. "I mean we can't leave them like this, and they'll carry on infecting people, but we can get them back."

"Do you think they're related? My disappearance and the curse?"

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe, I don't know."

Sarah frowned and they carried on walking in silence a while. The rain continued to pour but there were no unwanted intruders as they journeyed on.

Presently they arrived at the edge of the tree line. Terry stopped and the girls caught up with him; he seemed less angry now. They looked out over the grassy field before them, Hermione could only see ten feet or so before the wand light dissipated. "Godric Primary School is over there," Sarah clarified, jabbing her wand over the right hand side of the grass. "The town kind unfolds from there, it's as good as place as any to start."

They squelched onto the field, and looking down Hermione could just make out white lines demarcating the running track and Rounders pitch. Without the protection of the trees the rain lashed down with a ferocity bordering on spiteful. Terry's toes squished in and around the mud, and once again Hermione felt slightly guilty about taking his shoes. She wasn't giving them back though.

"It's funny being back here," Sarah cried over the torrent. "I used to go to school here, so did Harry."

"Isn't that quite unusual?" Hermione asked. She knew it was but thought it politer to ask. Most children from wizarding families were home schooled by family members on the basics. Only those who didn't yet know their magic potential tended to get a primary education in the three R's.

"My mum wanted us to understand Muggles before Hogwarts, so we wouldn't be ignorant, y'know?" She tilted her head and looked at the faint outline of the building they could now see. "But it's quite hard explaining to a five year old you can't tell your friends that daddy rides a broomstick and mummy occasionally blows the kitchen up or charms the crockery to recite Fleetwood Mac."

"My Dad said that," said Terry. "Not about the singing teapots," he amended, "but he thought it was weird I didn't go to 'normal school' as he saw it. My mum convinced him Great Auntie Pat could do just as good a job...even if it did involve an unusual amount of frogspawn. He got me playing football instead, and she also told him History of Rock Music could count as official coursework, so everyone was happy."

Hermione frowned. "I think I'd feel the same as your Dad," she said. "I'd want my kids to have a proper education before Hogwarts."

"Oi!" cried Terry, but it was good natured. "You calling me thick?"

She felt herself get a bit hot and flustered, even in the rain. "No, no, it's just – well look at Alicia Spinnet – fantastic witch, amazing on the Quidditch pitch, can barely write a thing. I don't want my kids like that."

"Alicia Spinnet?" asked Sarah. Hermione rubbed her throbbing head.

"Seventh Year, Gryffindor, no?" Sarah shrugged in the rain. "Probably dead then," Hermione muttered. "I hate this place."

"Wouldn't your bloke get a say in this," pressed Terry. "What if he thought it would confuse the little ankle munchers going to a Muggle school then being shipped off to Bats and Broomsticks Incorporated?"

"Well until there's an actual bloke in the picture, it doesn't really matter does it," Hermione snapped. She hadn't meant to, but her headache seemed to be vibrating to the very end of her nerves.

"Hmm," said Terry nodding. "Perhaps you'd better fix that then?"

Hermione felt those tears again, the ones that had been threatening for the last hour. That had been uncalled for; it wasn't her fault she'd not really had a boyfriend, he didn't need to be mean, and he certainly didn't need to stand so close-

"Nox!" hissed Sarah with fervour. "Lights out, lights out!" she cried to the others who quickly did as they were told and put their wands out.

"What?" asked Hermione, panicked, spinning around. Terry groped for her hand in the dark, and when he found his target she looked down at it in confusion. Her heart was pounding, she tried to look about them for the danger through the dark and the rain.

"There was a light in the school," gasped Sarah, spitting out rain water as she spoke. "It was wand light, not a torch I'm sure. What if someone's watching us?"

"We need to get out of the open, now," snapped Hermione. "Hold on tight and we'll make a run for the town." She then felt Sarah's hand grab her free one around her wand, and again looked down in confusion. Hadn't Terry taken both their hands?

They ran as best they could, luckily the moon was quite full so the school building was illuminated enough for them to not smack right into it. They began to edge around, eyes peeled for any movement. A sudden burst of voices up ahead made Hermione clutch hard at Terry's hand without realising. "The door!" hissed Sarah, and the trio dashed for the emergency exit just up ahead.

"Alohomora!" breathed Hermione and the door swung obediently open for them. They darted in and Terry charmed it locked behind them. They stood panting in the dark corridor, water running off them and splattering noisily to the linoleum floor. Hermione felt so light now the rain was no longer drumming down on her she could almost float.

"Who are they?" whispered Sarah as they rung out their clothes. Hermione tipped the water from Terry's shoes and peered through the gloom. It felt eerily quiet now they were indoors.

"No idea," she replied. "But I'm guessing they're the ones who did this to the town."

"They could be running from them just like us though," disputed Sarah.

Terry shook himself like a dog, spraying the girls. "Do you really want to take the risk?"

Once they'd managed to dry off as much as they could they crept slowly down the short corridor, their feet slapping too loudly as they hit the shiny floor. A quick inspection revealed no danger in the longer corridor as they reached the T-junction, and they chose right at random to head towards in the hopes of finding another exit. The walls were covered with sheets of cardboard decorated with faces made from pasta shells and PVA glue, hand prints in every colour of paint, crude houses drawn with smiley faced suns and stick people, dogs and cats. It made Hermione feel very calm.

A noise from the end of the corridor soon shattered the illusion. Hermione guessed at some kind of glass hitting the floor, but whatever it was the three students froze. "Should we turn around?" she whispered, her eyes fixed on the point where the hall turned round the corner.

"Could be a plan," agreed Sarah. They turned just in time.

An Indian boy of only about six was reaching out to grab them, his eyes white, blue lightening flashing over his little body. Sarah let out a scream as she jumped back to narrowly evade his grasp. She clasped her hands over her mouth but the damage was done. A little girl, as cursed as her classmate, stumbled out of the nearest classroom, followed by another student, then another.

Hermione spun round to where the glass noise had come from to see several more children and a few adults shuffling round the corner of the corridor. An icy cold bolt shot through her insides. "It's the friggin' children of the corn!" cried Terry. Franticly looking round he spied another door and yanked it open. "It's empty!" he called and he and Hermione launched themselves inside the classroom.

"Sarah?" said Hermione upon realising her absence, and the two whirled round again.

"I've got an idea!" she cried from the corridor, whipping out her wand and pushing some of the students aside to clear the way they'd just come. "C'mon!"

But one of the zombie figures, a teacher by the look of it, fell through the entrance, moaning, reaching, and just generally blocking their way. Sarah yelped and stumbled backwards as the children took advantage of her momentary distraction and advanced on her. The teacher, a frumpy woman in her forties, swiped an electrified hand at Hermione's head, green beads swinging from her neck as she walked. There was a cupboard behind the teacher's desk, and Hermione grabbed Terry, pulling him towards it.

"Sarah," she screamed. "Go! We'll hide!"

"I'll come back for you!" she yelled back, then the thudding of her sodden shoes running down the corridor signalled her departure.

Hermione didn't let herself linger, she darted round the desk, jerked the door to the cupboard open, and her and Terry scrambled inside. After firing several spells between them at the lock, they were once again left to pant in the quiet dark. Terry lit his wand and propped it on one of the shelves as hands began to paw at the wooden door. Hermione added a muffling charm on top of their security ones and all was silent again.

Hermione took several long, deep breaths. Her heart was pounding and her head stung with the ever persistent headache. She rubbed her temples and the dizzy sensation that was creeping up on her abated. "We're trapped," she said matter-of-factly.

"Yes," said Terry. "In a closet full of work books dating back to I'm guessing 1987, dried up pots of glitter glue, and an odd pair of running shoes. The smell I'll currently experiencing leaves a lot to be desired."

Hermione leant against the door, put her hand over her eyes and closed them. With a flick of the wand in her other hand the scent of freshly mown grass, spring water and tulips filled the air. "I'm in my happy place," she muttered. "I'm in my happy place."

"It's not that bad," said Terry jovially. "At least we're safe."

"Yeah but for how long?" cried Hermione, opening her eyes and flinging her arms out. "I mean, what was I thinking? _Hide? _ What if Sarah get's touched, what if the zombies break through or whoever had the lights finds us? I'm in a _cupboard, _this could be the end of the world and my bright idea was check out the stationary?"

"I was there too," Terry countered. "Cupboard seemed a good option to me with Sarah stuck outside, and who knows roaming around out the window. Beats getting our brains eaten by Year 2."

"I'm in an _alternate universe," _snapped Hermione, taking great care to enunciate the words clearly and jabbing her index finger at the Ravenclaw standing before her. "I have been thrown into a _parallel world, _I've left Hogwarts on some hare-brained quest, travelled across half the country, stolen a _car, _been attacked by _zombies, _performed an incredibly complex and dangerous spell from memory, caught a human being from three floors up, been saved by a tree branch, and totally, utterly soaked to the bone by a storm that seems almost biblical! And now, _now _I am locked in a primary school store cupboard with what I can only describe as a wise-cracking, button-pushing, self-centred-!"

At that moment she was thrown back against the door. With one hand, Terry Boot had slammed her body onto his, his arm wrapped around her waist, fingers clenching at her clothes. The other hand grasped the back of her skull, scrunching up wet locks of hair as their lips crushed together. The shock was so great it took a moment to comprehend what was happening. Without even being wholly aware, Hermione felt her hands slide up his back, clutching his wet top, the force of the kiss pushing her into the door. Shivers ran the length of her spine all the way down to her toes as she tried to pull him even closer. Heat radiated from him as his hand slowly moved up her body to cradle the back of her neck. Their wet clothes pulled against each other and his damp hair brushed against her face. After what seemed an eternity he relinquished her lips, but not her body, and she stood gasping, eyes still closed, trebling slightly in his arms.

"Please. Shut. Up." Was all he had to say before his mouth found hers again.

xxx

The shrill voice was getting stronger as Ron sprinted with his three American companions into the next chamber. He wished fleetingly this room had a door too that could be slammed shut, but it didn't. As the voice flailed around for whatever melody it was attempting to grasp, Ron grabbed one of the brooms in the corner of the room and squinted up at the array of winged keys currently circling their heads.

"Hey, whatta you doin'?" Abbey snapped at Chris, who was guiltily holding a broom of his own.

"We have to find the right key, don't we?" he countered, but she shook her head and swiped the Nimbus off him, as if scolding a small child.

"I am all for Muggle rights and anti-prejudice stuff, but I'm sorry there ain't no way you're flyin' that broom."

"Why not?" demanded A.J., squaring up to her.

"Because you physically can't," said Ron. They didn't have time for this. "The broom has to be powered by your own magic, it's not something magic that anyone can jump on."

"Y'all need to help us look from the ground, we'll scatter them from above." Abbey swung her leg over her broom and kicked off, Ron followed right behind her.

"What happens if that person gets through and they're not nice!" cried Chris from below. "We're helpless!"

"We need to hurry up then!" shouted Ron back down at them. He was right, they were completely defenceless and cold guilty feeling slid down his insides. We have to be quick – what would Harry do? What would Hermione do?

"Look at the lock," he called down. "What does it look like, the key should match." A.J. and Chris ran over and inspected the door.

"Wrought iron, dark grey," A.J. called back up. "Ornate, heavily decorated, big." Ron looked frantically around; there was just so many of them! Their wings were all different shapes and sizes too and they largely obscured the metal hidden underneath. Ron and Abbey scooted through a flurry of colours, darting their heads about.

"Dagnabbit," said Abbey through gritted teeth. She was gripping the broom so hard her knuckles had gone completely white. "I only ever stay on the ground, stupid broomstick, stupid keys."

Ron ignored her. "Big, grey, fancy," he muttered to himself over and over, hardly daring to blink. Gold but big, grey but modern, ornate but little. "C'mon, c'mon."

"There!" screamed Chris. "The one with the big purple wings!" He was pointing into the corner of the room on the left hand side above the locked door. Ron swerved to find the key he was talking about but Abbey was already racing over. The keys scattered and bashed into his face with their colourful wings, but Ron only had eyes for purple.

"Above you!" yelled Abbey, and before he could think Ron yanked the broom to a halt, reached with his right hand and snatched into the air. There was whoops and cheers as he brought his prize back down to his eye level, and saw struggling under his fingers was a large, ornamented, iron key.

The cheer was literally in his throat, but it was stolen from him before he could release it.

"Give me the key," a woman's voice commanded from the ground. It took Ron a moment to realise she was English. He looked down and his stomach plummeted. She wore a black, strapped dress, heavy looking and embroidered with hundreds of beads glinting like tiny black beetles. Her hair was a mess of black curls, her smile was cruel, and her gaze followed the direction of her wand from beneath black shadowed eyes. Ron gulped and recognized the wand was definitely pointed at him.

"Or what?" demanded Abbey, who had whipped out her own wand and dropped several feet to get closer to the ground.

"Or I kill you all," replied the woman, almost comically. Something surfaced in Ron's mind, an old wanted poster, images from the Daily Prophet.

"You're Bellatrix Lestrange," he said numbly. A Death Eater. The one who tortured the Longbottoms into insanity amongst others. One of You-Know-Who's most loyal.

"Yes," said Bellatrix patronisingly. "Who else could have gained control of this so-called school so easily?" She gave a lop-sided grin that came across more like a snarl. "I see you were quite horrid to poor old Rodriguez."

"Why are you doing this?" Ron asked, edging his broom closer to the ground and closer to his helpless friends. How soon before she realised they were lowly Muggles? She'd kill them instantly.

"My Master needs what's behind these tricks and traps, I'm the only one he could trust to retrieve it," she told him smugly. "And you can stop right there thank you very much, I don't think you should be any closer to the floor than that." Ron shuddered, his mind racing. She had the upper hand as long as her wand was on him.

"What happens if we give you the damn key?" asked Abbey, her wand still steady, her other hand trembling from effort on the broom. Bellatrix shrugged.

"You can go, I have no use for you."

"Liar." A.J.'s voice was horse as he spoke up. Ron wanted to shout at him to stop, don't draw any attention to themselves. But it was too late. "Why should we give you the key when you're going to kill us anyway?" He stepped towards the traitorous witch, slowly, thoughtfully. His shoulders were tensed like a cat about to pounce.

She blinked. "You know you're absolutely right, I might as well just kill you now and have done with it."

Her wand arched down to point at A.J., and a jolt of panic shot through Ron. "No, wait!" he cried, almost losing his balance on the broom. The key free hand dove into his pocket and by the time Bellatrix looked up again he'd dropped four feet and had his wand pointed straight at the key. "I'll melt it! I will!"

Bellatrix scowled. "You wouldn't even know how to do that you little English Squib," she snarled. "Only pure children have been educated, you couldn't even make a spark."

"Oh yeah?" said Ron, a lot more confident than he felt. "You obviously have no idea who I am." The warmth spread through his fingers. Bellatrix screamed, sensing the spell, and moved to blast him. But Abigail was the quickest of them all.

"_Expelliarmus!" _she yelled at the top of her lungs, blasting Bellatrix back, and sending her wand cascading right in front of where A.J. had walked to. In a blur of movement Bellatrix scrambled frantically to her feet as A.J. scooped up her precious wand and moved quickly backwards, the wand pointed at Bellatrix even though he could do nothing with it. At least she didn't know that.

Chris tore on past him and body-slammed the older witch to the ground. With an unearthly screech Abbey flew to meet them, tossed her broom aside, then seized two great handfuls of curly black hair. Ron sped down to the ground away from the kerfuffle and slammed the key into the door. It fit perfectly, although the left hand wing gave a sickening crack as he wrenched the door open.

"GO!" he shouted at A.J. who stood unsure at the threshold. He didn't wait to see if he did as he was told, instead he spun round and fired his own spell at the three wrestling figures in the middle of the room. They blasted apart in a purple shower, but as if in slow motion, Ron saw what Bellatrix was clutching in her hand. It was Abbey's wand.

"_Confringo!" _she screamed triumphantly, and Ron only just dived out the way in time as the wall behind exploded spectacularly into flames. Luckily A.J. had already darted to the other side.

"MOVE IT!" he roared to them as the bricks trembled and several came loose entirely, crashing to the ground.

"_Expulso_," Ron cried, waving his wand wildly over his head as he, Abby and Chris sprinted for the door. Several more chunks of stone came tumbling down where his spell hit, causing Bellatrix to dive out of the way, shrieking.

The wall ahead cracked impressively behind the flames, and Ron put all the power into his legs. He groped at the door as he reached it, fumbling for the purple winged key. His fingers hauled it out as Abbey streaked past. He and Chris pushed through the doorframe as he pulled the wooden door behind them, the wall collapsing in fiery pieces around them. He ducked as one final green spell shot past the rubble and flames, just inching through the door as it closed. He heard Bellatrix's screams of fury as the door slammed shut, and he turned the key once more. He and Abbey fired every possible locking spell they had at it for extra protection.

He gasped for air and tried to calm his heart beat. The knowledge that the other side of the entrance was in all likely hood completely blocked by boulders made Ron sigh as he rested his head on the wood. The wall on their side of the door was wholly intact, suggesting that maybe the two rooms weren't even physically next to each other anyway.

Ron kept his head on the door until he realised something was wrong. Maybe it was the air around Abbey as she suddenly stiffened, or the total silence after so much noise. But slowly, without really wanting to, Ron lifted his head up, opened his eyes, and turned around.

Abbey had turned before him and was now completely motionless. A.J. had leant on the right hand wall and slid down to the ground, his eyes wide, his jaw clutched like it might snap. Their eyes were both fixed on the same point on the floor, unwavering.

For there, unnatural and unmoving, lay the prone body of Chris; his limbs twisted, his eyes blank, and his clothes still smoking ever so slightly green from the Avada Kedavra curse that had just snatched away his life.


	6. Farewell To The Fairground Part One

!AUTHOR'S NOTE! It became obvious quite early on what a whopper this chapter was going to be, so I've decided to split it into two halves. I've already started on the second part, and then there will be one final chapter before the trilogy is finished – eek! I hope you enjoy this first part and I will get my skates on for the second.

In case you've forgotten, at the end of the last chapter:

Harry was in limbo with Draco and his Hermione (the original Germany trio!), and they just found out they have to save all of existence from the very Voldemort they defeated in Germany.

The other Harry was set on getting his Sirius back from limbo.

Hermione was hiding from zombie children in a closet with Terry, who decided to kiss her to calm her down. Sarah ran off saying she had a plan.

Poor, poor Ron is at the American magic school, where Bellatrix has just killed the Muggle Chris in her pursuit of the Philosopher's Stone. Waah!

!END OF AUTHOR'S NOTE!

Chapter Six Part One -

Farewell To The Fairground

Farewell to the fairground

These rides aren't working anymore

Goodbye to this dead town

Until the ice begins to thaw

We'll head south, just hold my hand now

I feel like I'm casting off my clothes

And I'm running through the snow towards the sunset

And I'm always with you

Keep on running

K-Keep on running

There's no place like home

There's no place like home

White Lies

For a moment, she was completely lost. It was wonderful.

But then, reality came slowly sneaking back in, like a serpent, winding its way around her fingers, in her hair, through her guts. And it was about this moment Hermione snapped her eyes open, stepped backwards and slapped Terry Boot as hard as she could.

"Oww!" he howled and stared at her incredulously, his hand cradling the left side of his face. "What the Hell did you do that for?"

"You boys," she hissed, her hand shaking as she pointed at his chest accusingly. "You boys from your different worlds, thinking you can just come along and kiss me and, and – well I'm not just some girl you can just fool around with because there happens to be an alternate reality between you and any potential consequences!" She waved her finger around, jabbing it with every point she made. "I don't know what your angle is but I'm not buying it-"

"Angle?" repeated Terry disbelievingly. "What angle! We're trapped in a cupboard, you were getting hysterical and you also happen to make my man-heart do the fandango. I thought a good snog would make everyone happy!"

Hermione dropped her hand. It was stinging anyway. "You...you actually like me?" she said in a small voice.

Terry folded his arms. "There are zombies tearing at the door." he said slowly. "As you have previously stated, we are rather trapped and you are stuck in the wrong plane of existence, and you are most concerned with whether or not I am taking advantage of you?"

Hermione considered this briefly. "Yes," she replied assuredly. Terry smiled; a genuine smile, not the cocky grin he usually displayed.

"Please stay stuck."

"Oh for goodness sake!" Hermione snapped. She put one hand on her hip and rubbed her throbbing temple with the other. What was the deal with this headache? At least her spell had worked to silence the zombie children outside, that really would have been the last straw. "I'm not her," she said pointedly. "She's a completely different person – you boys can't go round kissing me just because-"

"She joined the school a week ago," Terry interrupted blankly. "Harry hates her, and she only has eyes for Malfoy...who he also hates." He cocked his head and considered her. "Malfoy made a pass didn't he?" said Terry. "In your world."

Hermione shook some of the bedraggled locks from out of her face; she must look such a mess, this was so embarrassing. "Since discovering he is..._involved_ with the Hermione here, I understand where he was coming from," she explained through slightly clenched teeth. "But I'm not her, I'm not anyone's substitute."

Terry shoved his hands in his pockets and leant against the stacked notebooks. Hermione tried not to think about all the children's work he was saturating.

"Since your house dropped in on Oz," he said, looking out from beneath tendrils of hair, glossy with rain. "You have caused nothing but mayhem and chaos."

Hermione bit her lip and looked down at her feet. "I didn't mean to," she said quietly. He laughed and pulled his drenched socks off as he talked.

"Harry Potter has been a tantruming cloud of blame-free irrationality ever since Seamus' death," Terry said. "He clearly has things to be angry about, but he won't snap out of his victimised mentality, and he somehow feels he has the right to criminalise everyone around him even remotely connected to what happened." Hermione looked up from his trainers to see him staring at her.

"He lost his best friend, when my Harry was in his body."

Terry shrugged. "I hate to be flippant, but in case you hadn't noticed, people die quite a bit round here – it's just the way it is. Everyone was really sad, but Seamus Finnigan died defeating the most evil and powerful wizard in history. It's pretty vulgar to use it as an excuse to vindicate and ostracise people."

Hermione frowned. She didn't really see where this was going. "Aren't you his friend?"

"Oh yeah," he said, his face brightening. "Our mums were best friends at school, we're more like cousins I guess. Just because I think he's been acting like a wanker doesn't mean I don't care."

"And where do I fit in?" Hermione asked.

"In a cupboard," said Terry, pushing himself off the shelf. "In Godric's Hollow, right in the middle of a horror movie." He took a step towards her, his bare foot tapping lightly on the wooden floor, then another. "I've barely spent five minutes with the other Hermione, but you? You pulled the rug out from old Ziggy Stardust in the most spectacular way imaginable. And once we get him de-cursed I'm sure he'll play with all the other children far better for it. You've done that."

"Why do you call him Ziggy?" she asked. She knew it wasn't the most pertinent question right now, but it had been bugging her and she wanted something to stop him talking about her, from taking another step forward. She wasn't sure if she craved or feared having his hands run over her body once again, the taste of his lips, the rainwater on his skin.

"David Bowie," Terry said, grinning, breaking her thought pattern. "Y'know that big old lightning bolt he painted on his face in the Seventies?" He ran his finger in the shape of lightning across his face as if to demonstrate. Hermione was mildly horrified.

"But doesn't Harry hate that scar?"

The Ravenclaw boy shrugged. "So someone's gotta give him a hard time about it." He took that dreaded step, and now Hermione could reach out and touch his t-shirt if she wanted. She wrapped her arms behind her back. "I'm sick of the so called Boy Who Lived moaning and griping about how crap his life is. You've done in a few hours what he's failed to do in nine months."

"What's that?" she whispered, her eyes fixed on his.

He gave her a half smile and cocked his head. "Brought him back to reality."

She felt her brow crease. "But I didn't do anything, I just woke up here and started an argument that ended in zombie town."

"Exactly," he grinned. "Well done. Sarah will come back soon, we'll break out of the cupboard, go rescue the town, and then everything'll be hunky dory."

Was that how he saw it? Hermione wondered. He thought she'd made things better? Surely it was all just a big mess – she'd just wanted to get home.

Though, thinking about it, Harry had indeed seem to grown a back bone before her very eyes, despite Parvati's protests, and gone in search of his family. Maybe there was hope for him, maybe they could save the town and get everyone back in their right realities. Maybe.

"Well," she said, a weak smile of acceptance on her lips. "What do we do till then?"

Terry slipped his hands from his pockets and very slowly, traced them along her thighs, her hips, then gently took hold of her waist.

"I think I'm going to have to take advantage of you again."

xxx

Harry Potter stumbled out of the fireplace in the grand entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic, hot on the heels of Arthur Weasley. He carried straight on walking, vaguely aware as four more sets of feet thudded down on the shining marble floor behind him.

"I'm still not sure about this Harry," hissed Arthur as the group moved away from the long wall of fireplaces, all flickering various shades of violet and lavender flames. There was a series of desks occupied by wizards and witches busily scrawling on parchment that Harry and his friends weaved their way through. None of the workers looked up or even seemed to care about their presence; several more people fell through the purple flamed mantles before Mr Weasley even reached the grand double doors on the opposite facing wall, and they were treated with the same indifference.

Harry turned and made sure Hermione, Ron, Neville and Luna were all right behind. He knew how easy it was to get side tracked in this place, and he shuddered at the memories of their last visit only a few months ago.

"Honestly Harry," continued Arthur, "this could go seriously wrong, have you thought about the consequences?"

Harry frowned as they passed through the doorway into another large chamber. This one he recognised – there was a massive ugly fountain slap bang in the middle of the floor that was hard to ignore. His stomach curled as he thought of Bellatrix Lestrange darting about, throwing hexes at him and taunting him about Sirius' death. A smile edged around his lips. What did she know in the end?

"I've thought of little else for the last few hours," Harry admitted to Ron's dad as they approached a large mahogany desk. An Indian woman in her late forties was sat behind stacks and stacks of parchment, all neatly piled in what was obviously some kind of system. One of the piles was smoking.

"Yes?" enquired the woman as the group neared. The wall behind her was made entirely of hundreds of pigeon holes, each with a name and occupation engraved on a little golden plaque below. Most had letters crammed in, as well as parcels, tea bags, sneak-a-scopes and one even had a parakeet peering out.

"Nothing but trouble!" it chirped before ducking back into the little hole.

"Hello Rubina," said Arthur with a smile, but Harry could see him sweating ever so slightly. Please don't blow it, he prayed silently. "How've you been?"

The woman Rubina was of a sturdy build, her robes were smart if not a little tight and her golden flowery jewellery all matched down to the last petal. She peered over rectangular glasses then propped her elbow on the desk, displaying a bandaged right hand. "The kettle keeps exploding," she said with an entirely straight face. "The post is late again and Jarvis has called in sick. How are how you?"

Harry was sure she didn't actually want to know how Mr Weasley was. "Right," he said twisting the broken Muggle watch on his left wrist back and forth. "Sorry about...all that. I was hoping to sign some visitors in?"

She raised an eyebrow and regarded him, considering. "You're not scheduled for visitors," she replied matter-of-factly as an owl swooped down and dropped a letter on one of the piles. Rubina slammed her palms down onto the desk, causing her peppermint tea to slosh dangerously close to the top of her large polka dotted mug. "How many times am I telling you Marcus!" she shouted at the retreating bird. "All stationary orders from Animal Transfiguration go directly into the rubbish bin until Charles Royer is learning some manners!"

"Um...we're not on the schedule," declared Arthur, as she picked up the offending letter and flung it the bin by her feet. "It's all a bit hush-hush, you know that business last summer...with You-Know-Who?" Rubina's focus returned to the group before her, and she studied them carefully. Inevitably her gaze settled on Harry and the scar peeking out from under his hair.

"Bicycle pump!" squawked the parakeet.

"These were the students who were involved?" she asked, her eyes remaining on Harry whilst she pulled open a draw and started rummaging absent-mindedly.

"Yes, yes," confirmed Arthur, nodding. "The boys downstairs need to ask them some questions, for the paper work, you know?"

Rubina pulled out a rather large radish and slammed the drawer shut. "I'm sorry," she apologised, pushing up her glasses where they'd slipped down her nose and plopped the radish casually into her tea. "I still need some kind of authorisation though."

"It's okay Rubina," came a deep voice from their right. "They're with me." Harry turned and felt relief sweep over him as the imposing figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt came to their rescue.

"Department of Mysteries asked me to take them down," he said as he came to a halt by Arthur's shoulder. He stood far taller than anyone else in the group, his colourful African robes almost as bright as his smile.

"Nothing is in the diary," said Rubina crossly as she flicked through the pages of a large red leather bound book. "Why wasn't I informed?"

Shacklebolt shrugged. "I don't know," he said, putting his arm around Harry and leading them away. "It's a mystery."

"Good to see you again Kingsley," whispered Hermione as they headed towards the elevators.

"Good to see you children too," he said kindly, then turned to Arthur. "Any trouble getting to the school? You were gone a long time."

"No," said Arthur quietly as they stood and waited for the lift. "McGonagall let me use her fireplace. It just took Harry a while to, erm..."

"Convince him," supplied Harry. "Sorry guys I know I sound a particularly special brand of gaga right now but there isn't much time."

The lift arrived and thankfully they were the only ones to step inside. Several memos buzzed about their heads, but Harry wasn't worried about them overhearing. "Level Nine," instructed Arthur and again Harry found himself shiver, an icy cold sensation blossoming in the pit of his stomach. There was so many ways this could go wrong, what if someone else got hurt, or worse? Harry couldn't let go of the image of Sirius though, stuck in purgatory forever, and all because of him. His stubbornness had got them all into this mess, he decided. It could bloody well get them out of it again.

"So," began Kingsley. "Your aim is to gain admittance to the most secretive branch of the Ministry, then travel through the veil in order to rescue your Godfather?"

"Yes," agreed Harry without pause for thought.

"It's very clever," piped up Hermione, flipping open her satchel. She pulled out the end of the rope and showed it to Kingsley. Harry knew there was far more rope coiled in there than her bag could possibly hold, but when he'd asked her about it she'd just winked and told him 'it's bigger on the inside'.

"We've enchanted it so we can tie it round Harry's waist, so when he goes through the veil he'll still be tethered to this reality." She opened her mouth to explain further, but the lift doors opened on the fifth floor and she hastily shoved the rope back into her satchel. A tall man in a scarlet top hat entered, a snow white ermine perched on his shoulders. They all rearranged themselves and Harry stood at the back with Hermione and Kingsley. "All he has to do then," she whispered to Kingsley. "Is tug hard three times and we'll real him back in."

Kingsley considered them for a moment. "You know you're not the first ones to try this."

"Well, yes," Hermione whispered. "I found the method in 'Daring Feats' by Blaine Houroney. It wasn't exactly the same as what we're doing, but then I found some theories in back catalogues of some of the Ministry records-"

"Hmm yes," interrupted Kingsley as the elevator stopped at the eighth floor, and the tall man exited will his ermine. They both seemed to give the group funny looks as they left, questioning as to why they were heading down even further. Ron smiled back and wacked the button for the doors to slide shut. Harry let go of the breath he'd been holding, and he wasn't the only one. Luna sighed as she ran her hand through her long blonde hair, shaking it out. Neville lent against the mahogany panelled wall of the lift and folded his arms, his brow creasing slightly in concentration. Mr Weasley shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet.

"The record you found was probably referring to old Jezza back in '84."

"It mentioned a Jeremy Pinkleton," said Hermione a little defensively. She didn't like her methods being called into question.

"That's him," replied Kingsley with a smile. He didn't elaborate, so Harry asked what had happened to him. "He returned two months later, with no memory of what had transpired, and thereon after would fall unconscious anytime anyone said the words 'carrot', 'monsoon' or 'Thundercats'." They travelled the rest of the way down in silence.

Harry gripped tightly onto his wand in his jeans pocket. This will work, he told himself sternly, no matter what Kingsley said. This has got to work.

With a light 'ding!' the ride down ended with a jolt, and the doors slid open once again to reveal the ninth floor. Harry had to wait for the others to file out before he himself could leave into the brightly lit, though remarkably plain corridor. Immaculate white walls, ceiling and floor led down a couple of dozen feet to an imposing black door. In front of this door sat a desk, and at this desk sat a young woman. Harry frowned. He was sure that hadn't been there before.

The woman was a dainty little woman, with a short blonde bob, dressed entirely in black with a spangly pick neck scarf. Her desk was scattered with bits of parchment, several photo frames, a teddy bear and one large tea pot. She was half way through a large chocolate bar, engrossed in a magazine, when she realised she had visitors approaching. Her green eyes widened like saucers, and she hastily chucked the magazine, the chocolate, a bottle of nail varnish and what looked like a sketch pad into a drawer, before wiping her mouth and folding her hands in front of her on the pale beech desk. After checking her teeth with her tongue, she smiled and seemed to search for something to say.

"Hello!" she said brightly in a strong Liverpudlian accent. "How um...how can I help you today?

"We have an appointment," said Kingsley, smiling back and handing her a small official looking card. "With one of the Unspeakables, inside the department."

Slowly she reached up and took the card. "Y'know," she said, fingering it tentatively. "We don't get many people visitin' down here. And um...you're not on the schedule." She looked up and observed the group. Just like Rubina in the entrance hall her eyes fell on Harry. "I always know if someone's comin', as we don't get many people...and I would have definitely remembered, well y'know?"

"Are you sure we're not in the diary?" asked Kingsley a little concerned. "Could you check again Miss...?"

"Oh just call me Ellie," she said, perking up again. "Of course I'll check for ya." She pulled over a large black book from underneath a couple of photos, which Harry could now see were of a British Bulldog that had surely run into a brick wall its face was so squashed. Its pink tongue lolled about as it panted, and one of the pictures looked up and seemed to smile at Harry. He blinked and returned his focus to Ellie and her book.

Her little forehead was puckered. "Cor blimey," she said, pulling at the tendrils on the end of her scarf. "I do apologise, I swear you weren't in here this mornin', and Barney always tells me if there's changes." She looked at them. "Barney's ma boss," she explained. "I don't actually know his name...or his face...but I thought Barney was a good name for a boss."

"Excellent name," agreed Mr Weasley. "So we're okay to proceed?"

Ellie bit her lip and closed the book. "I – I'm not really sure – it's so bloody strict around here." She thought a bit. Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot and Hermione smacked him discreetly to stop fidgeting. He was just so anxious not to get stalled when they were so close.

"Oh – have you got your Ministry passes?" she asked Kingsley and Arthur cheerily, to which they both produced small wallet like pouches and showed her some photo i.d. She swirled her wand over them and beamed. "That's great! Okay, I guess you can go on through."

With a swell of relief Harry smiled at Neville next to him and they all made to squeeze around the desk to the black door.

"Whoa whoa whoa," said Ellie, holding her hands up and standing to her feet. "I'm really sorry, but I can't allow kids through there. It's _dangerous_," she said in an awed voice to the younger members of the party.

"Um Ellie, it's okay," said Kingsley, taking her gently by the arm and moving her slightly to one side. "They've been in before, that's why they're back today."

She turned and looked at them, taking Harry in particular in again. "You mean, these are the ones...last summer?" Kingsley nodded and hands flew up to cover her mouth. "Oh you brave, brave things!" she gasped, clutching her hands to her chest. "Oh that's just terrible, I can't imagine – yes, yes go on through."

She waved them past the desk with a slightly teary smile. Harry was actually quite touched that someone, a complete stranger to him, recognised what a trauma they'd gone through.

"Thanks," he said to her as Kingsley ushered him through the big black door. Once on the other side it swung shut with a resounding boom that ran through Harry's bones. Just like before, as soon as the room was sealed the circular wall with the many doors whizzed round at a terrific rate, leaving Harry with the sensation he was in the middle of a spinning top. Gradually the doors eased to a halt, and Harry found himself looking expectantly at Kingsley Shacklebolt. His black eyes were roaming the various entrances, all identical as far as Harry could see.

"So which one's the Death Chamber?" asked Ron, scuffing his shoe on the black granite floor.

"Don't call it that!" snapped Hermione.

"That's what Dumbledore called it," he replied defensively.

"Yes," she said patiently, "but it's horrid."

Luna was drifting around the room, sort of dancing to a tune no doubt only she could hear. Her fingers trailed along the walls and handless doors as she sashayed along. "I think we should call it the Whispering Room," she said, passing Kingsley who was looking closely at a door on Harry's right.

"This one," he proclaimed before Harry could agree with Luna.

Everyone congregated around the door. "Are you sure?" asked Arthur Weasley, peering at the door in question.

"Absolutely," assured Kingsley. He looked down at Luna Lovegood. "I can hear the whispering," he added with a wink. Without further ado he gave a firm push on the door, and it swung open obediently.

Harry was through first, eager to see if Kingsley was right. He blew a sigh of relief as he stepped into the large square amphitheatre, and descended the steps to the centre quickly. The arch stood proudly on the slightly raised plinth in the middle of the room, and the black tattered veil hung from it as before. It fluttered lightly, even though there was no breeze.

Harry slowed as he reached his target, his insides suddenly rinsed with dread. He had no idea what he wound find on the other side of that veil, he could only hope it led him back to the strange circular library with its thunder storm and endlessly high shelves of books.

"You don't have to do this," said Neville softly to him as he arrived at his side. "I know you want to, but please don't think you have to."

Harry gazed round as the rest of the group came to a halt around him. They all looked nervous and concerned, Hermione was ringing her hands, and Ron had his arms folded.

"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "No you're wrong, I absolutely have to do this. Hermione, let's get this rope on me."

She hesitated a moment, then pulled the rope from her bag. "Harry," said Kingsley suddenly. "Let me do it, let me go instead. Sirius is my dear friend too, I want his safe return as much as you do, and with my experience-"

But Harry cut him off. "It has to be me," he argued as he and Hermione tied several complicated knots in the rope that was now securely around his waist. "It's my fault Sirius...that he fell through the veil. And I've been there, I'll know what to expect." Hopefully, he added silently.

"You could help me with the charm though," said Hermione to Kingsley in a little too obvious attempt to break the tension. "I know the theory but I've never performed it before." Kingsley seemed to deflate a little, and Harry wondered if it had been his plan all along to volunteer himself. Maybe that's the only reason he'd agreed to escort them here in the first place, so he could risk his life instead of Harry.

"But Harry-" began Mr Weasley, but Kingsley cut him off.

"Of course I will help you with the spell," he said gravely, and moved over to her side. "We don't want any mistakes, not even the tiniest." Harry stared up at the high ceiling above them while they worked. He was glad he hadn't had to fight Kingsley; there was no way he was going to back down and he really didn't like hexing his friends.

Luna crept up towards the curtain and leant her ear in. "Careful Luna," said Neville anxiously and she smiled. She stayed there another minute or so.

"I think someone's having sausages," she said inexplicably, then floated back down to the group again.

"That should do it," said Hermione in a small voice, and the two of them stepped back. Harry looked back down from the ceiling.

"Right then," he said, nervously pulling out his wand. "So...you're gonna keep the other end in your bag."

She nodded. "And it'll seem unlimited to you on your end. When we feel the three tugs, we'll yank you both back through." She tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Easy peasy."

"Easy Peasy," he repeated back. He took a deep breath and stepped slowly up onto the dais. Now he was closer he could hear the whispering just as Luna had done, but he couldn't make anything out. Certainly nothing about sausages.

"Good luck mate," said Ron, and his dad put his arm round his shoulder.

"Yes, good luck Harry," agreed Mr Weasley. The others murmured their wishes of good luck as well and Harry nodded back at them, unwilling to open his mouth for fear of what might come out.

He turned and stared again at the curtain. It seemed to be beckoning him, enticing him forward. Harry stopped resisting. One foot after another, his hand reaching out, feeling the cloth, pushing it aside.

And then he was gone.

xxx

Harry Potter leant against one of the sturdy wooden poles holding up the marquee, closed his eyes and drew in a slow, deep breath.

A dozen or so people were clustered around a circular table made of thick, varnished oak situated several feet away from the vast tent's entrance. Behind that stood a number of smaller rectangular tables with even more people swarming about. The intense level of sustained chatter could only make Harry think of a hornet's nest, and his head throbbed.

Spread on the round table were a collection of maps, and although Harry was no cartographer he was certain they didn't belong together. Some were tea stained and had detailed, lavish illustrations of ships being blow by the four winds. Some were blueprints and satellite images, some were surrounded by stars, some depicted the edge of the Earth and the waterfalls down to the heavens. There were images of towns, cities, continents and the entire globe. They were covered a variety of languages and dialects, none of which Harry recognised as English.

Ron Weasley was arguing with a nice seeming chap, who had very kindly agreed to take off his knight's helmet and put down his six foot sword for the duration of the strategy meeting Godric had called into place.

"You can't use this map," insisted Ron, shaking the rolled up parchment at the knight in what Harry considered to be a rather irresponsible manner. "It doesn't have America on it, you can't use a map without America on, it's wrong!"

Hermione Granger pulled a small, greenish map towards her covered in a mixture of Russian and Chinese symbols. "It doesn't matter Ron," she said, her eyes scanning the frail parchment in her hands.

"Of course it does!" he countered. "They're not right, hardly any of them-"

"The ground you're walking on doesn't actually exist, nothing here does," she interrupted. "It's all made from the subconscious' of the people who've arrived here. If this," – she held up her green map – "is how some Lieutenant remembers it, that's how it'll appear here."

"Think of it as a patchwork quilt," suggested Ric helpfully which made Sirius Black laugh to himself.

"Trouble is," mused Draco Malfoy with a frown. "We don't know how the patches are organised together." Harry noticed that even though the table was bustling with arguing Generals and Commanders all vying for Godric Gryffindor's attention, Draco managed to remain close by Hermione's side, his hand protectively finding the small of her back from time to time.

"Then what's the point?" asked Harry with a sigh. He pushed himself off the tent pole and walked over to the table. The grass under his feet was already being swallowed up in mud after the dozens of feet trampling back and forth through the pergola. He shook a clump from his trainer as he came to a halt by Godric and Sirius.

"I mean, seriously – we can't plan, we should just get to action stations. Half the 'soldiers'," he said, purposely using air quotation marks to show his dissatisfaction. "Haven't got a clue what's going on, and wouldn't believe you if you tried."

"Harry, we must be as prepared as possible," urged Alex the mysterious watcher from the other side of the table. He stood perfectly at ease between a large African tribesman and an Arabian mystic. The African was naked aside from a loincloth and several small bones pierced into various parts of his body. All that could be seen beyond the Arabian's robes were his eyes. They were arguing and gesticulating over a small wooden globe that kept whizzing one way, then the other depending on who was shouting.

If Harry was honest, Alex was really starting to grate on him. He had appeared so genuine and helpful when he had pulled him from Stonehenge into his little home last week. Giving him the amulet had seemed like just the omen he'd needed at the time. Now Harry couldn't help but feel he'd just thrown the biggest spanner in the works and, aside from the brief apology on Harry's arrival to this strange place, didn't seem too bothered by the whole mess. In fact his calm resolution was undoubtedly the source of Harry's irritation. Why didn't he just admit they were all screwed?

It was very easy to say; 'Okay Harry, remember that wizard, the most dreadful one to have ever lived, the one you defeated for, what – the fifth time last November? Yeah, well he's coming back and you'd better defeat him or nothing will have ever existed. Ever.' It was also very easy to boast of having an impressive battalion at their command, but Harry had seen collections of these troops before he was called to the marquee, and they could only be described as a ramshackle at best. They were all from different eras, different races, nationalities, religions, and they all looked perplexed as all Hell.

As far as Harry could see, for all the posturing and pretence of readying for war, they were just as in the dark and helpless as if they were preparing for battle by sitting down to a picnic. The cluelessness was radiating off everyone in various different guises, and for Harry it was manifesting as just plain crankiness.

"Harry mate," said Godric, nudging him almost playfully with his elbow. "It's cool – everyone at this table has their own army to play with, and they'll be fighting on their own ground. They can use the maps to plan potential battles in the places they know, and hopefully find their way out if anyone gets lost."

Harry folded his arms and peered at the assortment of sheets on the table. "So, this lot here," he said, indicating the eclectic group of leaders studying maps as foreign to them as they were to him. "They each have a battalion, made up of a random mix of soldiers, who all somehow ended up in limbo."

"You'd be surprised how often it happens," Ric said with a shrug. "It was always easy to get away with big spells on the battlefield, even in Muggle wars – and with all that blood and animosity flying around, more often than not hexes would go nasty, they'd twist and distort and before you knew it half the men were gone, disappeared."

"We call them the Wandering Legions," murmured Alex peering at a greying map of what Harry thought might be mountains.

"So," said Sirius, cutting Harry off before he could say anything scathing. "There's a phenomenon whereby groups of soldiers, sailors, pilots – they all get lost into limbo due to distorted spells in battle, which means we now have thousands of guys-"

"And girls," interjected a buxom woman with flaming red hair and an impressive breast plate engraved with duelling dragons. Sirius nodded.

"And girls," he agreed. "Ranging from the S.A.S. to Roman Centurions, and what – they're all just gonna agree to line up and fight alongside each other, without question – what are they even fighting against?"

"Yeah," said Godric, suddenly serious. Harry felt relief towards his Godfather-who-wasn't for joining him in the practical approach. "Yeah no, you're right," continued Ric nodding. "It's not going to be easy, that's why I gathered all these guys together. I'm hoping they'll be able to pull everyone in the right direction. Most of the guys...and girls," he added with a nod to the Valkyrie. "Will be so confused they'll be grateful of someone just telling them what to do."

"And what will they actually be fighting?"said Hermione, repeating Sirius' question as she passed her map to a little Chinese man with wicked looking eyes.

Alex and Ric traded glances. "I'm not sure how best to describe it," said Alex.

"Try," suggested Harry coldly, something that was not wholly lost on those around him. The watcher put his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet, considering.

"They are what remains of lost souls too...demented to fully reform as they were in the physical realm," he began. "They saw the world in such a warped way, it is far too specific to them to possibly recreate it in a way the rest of us can interpret. Sadly for us their kind are often attracted to this between plane, as their minds are too confused as they leave their old lives to find the correct paths."

"Down to Hell," snarled Ric quietly. He shoved several maps away from him and leant his knuckles on the oak surface. An officer with a large cigar and numerous medals looked scornfully down at them before returning to his conversation with the knight. "Homicidal maniacs," elaborated Ric. "Schizophrenics, serial killers with far too much imagination." Harry shuddered.

"I have no idea how the numbers will play," admitted Alex. "There could be a handful compared to our armies, or we could be overrun. Logic suggests the former, but logic doesn't always hold much sway over this realm."

"So they won't look like people anymore?" clarified Ron in his alien American accent. Alex shook his head.

"More like black wraiths from what I can gather. But once they make physical contact with a victim something seems to change, but I suspect it's out of the normal human field of vision."

"Okay, this is all very fascinating, but what's the point?" demanded Harry a little too loudly. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked around the group. All the generals were listening to them now. "We fight, they fight, no one can die as they're already dead-"

"Erm...not quite," interrupted Ric, making Harry look up at him. He seemed uncomfortable. From out of nowhere, Merlin had silently appeared by his side. He did that a lot Harry noticed.

"What do you mean 'not quite?'" he countered.

"You're right," Godric agreed, raising his eyebrows and holding his hands up defensively. "Technically, we're all already dead as you say...but...if one of those nasties gets a hold of us, well it's..."

"Nothing," fished Alex sadly. Harry stared at them, he could feel his friends doing the same.

"What – _nothing_ nothing?" asked Draco. As he spoke Harry saw his arm unconsciously find Hermione's shoulders again. Something wrenched inside him that he didn't like.

"The soul will merely...evaporate," Merlin explained, his voice soft but clear in the din of the large tent. He held his hands behind his back, and stared up at them from barley a foot above the table. The sight of him beside Godric was almost comical, even in a situation as grave as this one.

"They cannot move on from here, and if they believe that they have indeed 'died' – a sensation they know well from their departure from the material world – they will just cease to be. This realm holds no natural pathway to the afterlife."

Harry felt sick. He stepped away from the table and looked out towards the tent's doorway. He could see lots of people moving back and forth outside, hurrying with what tasks he had no idea. The light seemed blinding compared to the lamplight inside and he turned his head from it.

"But...that's horrific!" exclaimed Hermione. She put her hand on her chest and looked almost close to tears. Draco pulled her in and kissed the top of her head. Ron's face had gone a bit green and Sirius rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling slowly.

Suddenly, Harry had enough.

"Fine – so, we're basically looking at the obliteration of hundreds of innocent souls, unless I can find that Voldemort from Germany last year and obliterate him first, yeah?"

Godric took a moment to think. "Well, yeah-" he began.

"Okay then!" snapped Harry, falsely bright and throwing his hands up in the air. "I best get on that then."

He spun on his heels and stomped out of the tent into the fresh air. Even though it was stormy looking again, Harry found his eyes blinking in relief at the weak sunshine hitting his face after the dimness of the marquee. Almost immediately he felt ashamed at his outburst, but after only a slight pause he kept on walking regardless. Deep down he knew he didn't want to hear what they were saying, because it was simply too much. The boy who lived, the heir of Gryffindor, the saviour of all existence – where did it end? How many people, people who had died however many years ago and never found their proper resting place, how many of those were now facing being wiped entirely from existence. It was too complicated, all these battle plans and strategies. Harry pulled out his wand; he just wanted to smash something now.

"Harry!" came a voice from behind him, but he kept walking down the stretch of tents, past the make shift kitchens and weapons stations. "Harry wait!" It was more of a command than a request, and recognising the voice he reluctantly obeyed. He turned, clutching his wand defensively.

Draco and Hermione came to a halt a few feet away and eyed him warily. Harry was glad they had at least refrained from holding hands. "Harry, what the Hell?" demanded Draco, his hands out in exasperation. "Everyone in there wants the same thing, we're all on the same side – why the blow out?"

Harry clenched his fists and looked out over the tent tops. Before all that was visible was clear blue sky, the odd fluffy white cloud drifting on by. Now the clouds were grey and multiple, and to his left an impressive mountain range had materialised out of nowhere, giving the campsite and ominous, watched-over feeling to it.

"I just-" Harry began, but he wasn't sure what to say. He felt even more ashamed and couldn't quite find the words to explain his resentment, his frustration. His fear. But Hermione, this other Hermione with the make-up and the straight hair, spared him. She stepped over the short distance between them and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders.

"I know," she said. "It's too much."

A third pair of arms surrounded them both, and Harry smiled at the idea that he was taking comfort from Draco Malfoy. "It's a bag of shite is what it is," he added, pointedly.

"But you know we're here for you," said Hermione. "We won't let you down."

"Yeah," countered Draco. "Out of the Harry Potters I know, you're definitely my favourite. We'll be stuck by your side, no matter what."

Harry had to laugh, and pulled gently out of the embrace. He was mildly embarrassed to realise there was a lump in his throat, but he coughed it out and ruffled his own hair.

"Sorry for being an arse," he said simply. Draco and Hermione smiled back, and he suddenly had no clue why he'd been bothered about them holding hands. Who was he to snub anyone's happiness, no matter how strange it seemed to him.

"So...um," he started a little awkwardly. "In the two minutes I was gone, did Godric happen to mention how I defeat Voldemort in this master plan of his?"

The pair exchanged a glance and Draco actually laughed.

"It's funny you should say that," he said, reaching behind his back. "But he did."

Harry somehow hadn't noticed, but Draco had had a sword strapped over his back, which he now unclasped and passed over to Harry. He knew who's it was before he even got a good look at it, and he smiled a genuine smile. Draco smacked him on the shoulder as he unsheathed it.

"Ric thought you'd need it more than him. Apparently he's got a spare," he added with a wink.

Harry held the sword of Gryffindor aloft and twisted it in what little sunshine there was. It was just as beautiful as he remembered from the other worlds; his own when he was twelve, fighting the basilisk, and last November, rescuing his sister-that-never-was...

He wondered where Sarah was now – had she really tried to get back by herself, is that how Draco arrived here? He hoped she'd succeeded. He hope all his friends were back where they belonged.

It was a thin hope but he was going to stick to it.

"So I've just got to skewer The Dark Lord and all our problems will be solved?" asked Harry a little sceptically. Hermione shook her head.

"I think it's a bit more complicated than that," she said. "If we go back to Godric though he said he'd explain."

"That's the most competent plan I've heard all day," he replied with a smile.

Unwilling to put the sword away just yet, Harry let it sit in his hands, resting comfortably, occasionally swinging this way and that as they began the walk back to the large marquee. It was becoming more and more apparent that the campsite through which they were striding was changing right around them. He'd look one way and see a stretch of modest sized tents, then the next moment they would have morphed into great pavilions, weapons production sites, or in one instance a great length of grass with a number of boisterous knights jousting across.

It seemed no matter what the structures held inside, no matter how modern the facilities or people were, the outsides still roughly held the visage of a Medieval camp. Harry thought maybe that was Godric's mind, holding it all together, like cement in crazy paving.

Slowly, Harry realised his feet had stop walking. Draco and Hermione realised about twenty seconds later and came rushing back to where he stood.

"What is it?" asked Draco, an edge of worry in his voice. He and Hermione both had their wands out; Harry appreciated their anticipation.

"I don't know," he murmured, sliding the sword back into its holder and getting his own wand back out again. "I just...I feel like we have to go this way."

He pointed to a break in the tents on his left. There were several rows of tents going back, and there in the middle was an mammoth marquee. Although it wasn't that tall, it was as wide as a Quidditch pitch; it's many sides blood red, little gold flags fluttering from every corner.

"Are you sure you can trust something like that Harry?" asked Hermione very seriously. "I read about all kinds of curses over the summer that lure their victims in by the power of suggestion."

"Hmm," said Harry, nodding. "Yeah, you're right. However I'm still going down this way."

He set off. He heard two cries of indignation behind him. "Harry, I'm not kidding," hissed Hermione as she caught up to him. "They make you think it's a good idea but it's not!"

"You – _we_ – could be walking into a trap," said Draco as they skirted round a rather large woman beheading chickens on a rickety wooden work station.

"Yes, yes, I can definitely see that," said Harry, not taking his eyes off where he was heading. "But I still have to go this way. And you don't have to come, it's just me that has to go."

"Oh then we'll definitely leave you alone then!" said Draco, exasperated. He tried to grab Harry by the shoulder but he found no purchase. Harry himself barely felt it, his mind had become blissfully calm again. He just had to get to the tent and everything would be okay.

Something about this felt familiar. It was like a tickle at the back of his skull. Harry didn't want to listen, but then the tickle became a scratch. Did he really want to move his feet this way? Yes, came the immediate answer, but that scratch became a voice.

Stop it, said the voice.

No, it's okay, Harry said back, but the voice struggled on.

No, think about it, where are you going? This isn't your idea, it's somebody else's and does that sound good to you?

Harry frowned as they rounded a purple and teal striped pergola. No, he did want to go to the big red tent, didn't he?

"Harry, please," said Hermione. She sounded a bit scared, and Harry didn't like that. Why shouldn't he go to the tent, he wondered, why would it be a bad idea? What were they afraid of?

You know what they're afraid of, argued the voice. You've seen his face.

Harry faltered. His feet actually stumbled as he frowned in concentration. Several faces floated in front of him, even though all he wanted to think about was getting to that tent. The faces didn't even make sense, one was a school boy, one was a young man, others looked more like snakes than men.

Stop walking.

No, snapped Harry, stop interfering!

Stop interfering. Stop interfering? Hang on...Harry's mind seemed to be struggling through treacle to think, but that was just it – he _was _thinking. The strange voice wasn't strange at all – that was _him. _The one urging him towards the red tent, that was the intruder!

But now Harry felt a sense of panic well up in him. He wasn't controlling his feet, he couldn't blink his eyes, he couldn't clench his fists.

Don't worry about it, just keep walking, soothed the voice he now knew not to be his. Everything will be okay once you get there.

What's there? Harry managed to ask. I don't want to go, stop walking, stop walking!

He could feel his muscles straining, but still he carried onwards. Draco and Hermione was talking at him, but everything was sounding so blurry, like he was underwater. They rounded an emerald tent filled with young men in scarlet military jackets, most of whom were jumping around after a small fairy flying over their heads, a potion bottle almost as tall as she was dangling from her hands, spilling droplets into a lucky few soldiers mouths. Harry wasn't allowed to look at this long though, as there in front of him stood the magnificent, blood red object of his obsession.

I'm going to get everyone killed.

That did it. Harry, the actual Harry not whatever had been controlling him, gained control of his left foot, and swung it purposefully under his right foot, meaning he had no choice other than to slam flat on his face in the grass and dirt. Feeling sprung back into his fingers, his tongue, all the squishy bits in his belly. He gasped for breath and inhaled a mouthful of dusty Earth which made him cough like crazy. It felt good.

"Whoa," he said, rolling onto his front and shaking his head as if there were water in his ears. He mentally scooted round his mind to see if he was really alone now. It at least seemed like he was. Smiling, he looked up and Draco and Hermione who were now standing above him. "I really wanted to go in that tent!"

"Tell me about it," said Draco relieved, and leant over to help him up. Harry grasped his hand and let himself be hauled off the ground. He brushed down his clothes and looked around. He had managed to break the spell that had been controlling him only half a dozen or so feet from the looming red tent, and now he, Draco and Hermione stood looking at the entrance way. The tent flaps were embroidered gold on their edges, and they hung perfectly still even though a stiff breeze was winding through the campsite, fluttering the other tents nearby. This tent remained perfectly and entirely still.

Harry crossed his arms over, his wand gripped tightly in his right hand. "What do you reckon's in there then?" he asked. As the flaps were closed and overlapped he couldn't see anything at all beyond them.

"Something not good," replied Hermione instantly.

Draco rubbed the back of his neck. "Whatever or whoever is in there they wanted you to join them pretty badly."

Harry frowned. "That spell though...it was pretty basic. A full on Imperius Curse would have just taken me over – you probably wouldn't have even noticed the difference. This was more like a really strong suggestion."

"What's your point?" asked Draco.

"A more accomplished, more dangerous wizard would most likely have used the more advanced spell, and it would have probably been successful," said Hermione with a shudder.

"But a simpler spell suggests someone not so dangerous," murmured Harry, his gaze firmly fixed on the unmoving tent flaps.

"Oh no, uh uh," said Draco suddenly. "I know what you're thinking and it's a bad idea, very bad idea."

Harry looked at his friend and felt the smallest of smiles creep onto the corner of his mouth. "But aren't you even just a bit curious as to what's inside?"

Almost without pause he made up his mind and took a step towards the red tent. "Harry!" cried Hermione appalled. Draco took a more direct approach and stepped in front of Harry and tried to stop him walking.

"Harry, this is stupid!" he snapped. "You saved yourself from going in there by force so now you're going to do it voluntarily?"

Harry stopped walking at this but it was only so he could snap back with vigour. "I'm not going to hang about waiting for Voldemort to leap out at me!" he shouted. "This could be my only chance to be prepared."

"But what if it's a trap?"

"It's almost certainly a trap!" Harry cried back. "The point is I'm prepared for it to be!"

Draco looked a bit deflated at that. Hermione's wide eyes flicked between the two boys. "He's got a point," she said to Draco, with a reluctant sort of smile. "Let's go in and give them the jump."

"You're both insane," he said, shaking his head and rubbing his temple. "Right, okay then! Lead the way." He swept his arm out and indicated the tent entrance; he was pretending to be annoyed but Harry felt he just wanted to concede with a bit of a fuss. Harry smiled back at him.

"Why thank you kindly," Harry said with the same sort of mock grandeur.

He turned to face the entrance and felt a flutter of nerves through his insides. There really could be anything on the other side of the those curtains. He stepped towards them and grasped at one of the edges, the material was heavy and velvety, and the gold braiding felt coarse under his finger tips.

He pushed it over to the left and slid inside the tent, looking over his shoulder to hold the curtain for Draco. When he looked back round he had moved fully inside the tent...except it wasn't a tent any more.

He'd sort of expected that, but the sight still took his breath away. Now, instead of a marquee, they were standing inside a grand hall, chandeliers bigger than he was hanging from the ceiling way, way above their heads. The hall must have been at least twice the size of the one back a Hogwarts. Large, golden framed windows occupied the top half of the engraved, wooden walls, and they showed a starry night scene; a far cry from the bright and breezy spring day they'd just stepped from.

A throng of people swirled around them, all dressed in exquisite fabrics, masks covering top parts of their faces. The women's dresses were so large as the men swung them round in some kind of grand waltz, Harry had to step back almost straight away for fear of being hit. A string quartet were playing at an astonishing volume considering the size of the room. Harry couldn't see the band from where they stood, but he guessed they had either been magically amplified or there were a heck of a lot more than just four of them. People were conversing in groups clumped around the dance area, gesticulating as they chatted and laughed. Servants in white curly wigs and red and gold tailcoats weaved in and out of the crowds, trays of drinks and entrées balanced on their hands. There was a taste of musk in the air, and a fine dusty mist swirled in the candle light.

"Wow," breathed Hermione in Harry's ear. "Did we just arrive in Seventeenth Century Vienna?"

Harry turned to answer her, and was struck by two things instantly. First, the curtain had vanished, leaving them standing in the middle of the hall.

Second, a large black wraith was hovering right over Hermione's shoulder.

"MOVE!" screamed Harry, snatching his wand up and firing at the monstrous ghost. It darted out the way and Hermione and Draco dove to his right. It flew with tremendous grace as well as speed, and before he knew it the creature was racing back towards him. He fired another deflecting spell from his wand, and just managed to duck two different spells from Draco and Hermione.

"Is that one of those serial killer ghost things Ric was talking about?" shouted Draco as they retreated. The guests of the ball twirled around them, completely oblivious to the fight. The music played on, a young man was juggling brightly coloured balls to their left.

"Must be!" shouted Harry, craning his neck for the spirit. "That must be what was calling me here."

Suddenly, the wraith shot out from between two women discussing politics over goblets of red wine. It was too quick and too close for any of the three students to get a spell out as it pulled itself to a halt just before them. It didn't have a body as such, more just a central mass that its smoke-like tendrils extended from, but Harry still caught a glimpse of its black, marbled eyes. They were eager. It drew back its limbs, the way octopi do, and it somehow seemed to grow in size as it did. With ferocious speed the tendrils abruptly snatched forward, wrapping around its nearest target. Hermione.

"_NO!" _bellowed Draco, grabbing out at her, but her image, her shocked face just as she realised what was happening, flickered like an old TV picture on pause and disappeared. "NO!" he screamed again. _"No, Hermione, no!"_

Harry's insides turned to ice, but with a thrill of hope he spotted her again. "Look!" he cried, grabbing Draco's arm and pointing about ten feet away. Behind a banquet table covered in delicacies, Hermione flickered into view again, mid struggle against the wraith. She disappeared just as quickly again, but Harry felt elated anyway. "It's taking her somewhere," he said excitedly. "Come on!"

The two boys darted forward, but in a movement so fluid it was hard to understand how it happened, two ladies intercepted them, whirling into their arms, sweeping them up in the waltz. Harry cried out and struggled, but even though it just looked like the woman was lightly holding his hand and shoulder, her grip was vice like and he couldn't budge. "Draco!" he called out as his friend was danced away in the opposite direction.

"Draco!" he cried out helplessly. "Hermione!"

xxx

A noise, one hard to define, was caught some way between his throat and the silent air lingering in the underground passageway. He scraped his hands on the stone wall and wooden door in a desperate attempt to stay upright and not succumb to the sickening dizziness that was enveloping what little he could still see. In the dim torchlight he surveyed the scene.

And he wanted to die too.

Ron Weasley shook as he drew in one deep breath after another, grasping onto his consciousness. He, Abigail and A.J. stared incomprehensibly at Chris' sad and twisted body. His empty eyes were fixed on the tunnel's ceiling, a little to the left of where Ron stood. He wanted very badly to close them.

Abbey collapsed to her knees as her trebling hands covered her mouth.

"No," she uttered. "No, no, no, no, no, no!" She dropped to her hands and crawled over to the body, her chest shuddering, tears in her eyes. "No, Chris..." She reached her hands out to his torso.

"Don't touch him!"

Ron tore his eyes away to look at A.J. His face was wild, eyes wide, teeth gritted. His breath was flurrying in and out of his nose and he too was gripping onto the wall where he sat for assurance. "Don't touch him," he breathed out again.

Abbey sat down and covered her mouth once more, her big eyes looking at the Muggle boy as two fat tears rolled down her face.

"I'm – I'm so sorry," she stuttered, her hands now clutching her grazed knees, her mouth contorting as she spoke. "I-"

"Take it back," gasped A.J. He finally looked away from his friend's body, first at Abbey then at Ron. "Use – use your magic, take it back, bring him back!" He scrambled off the floor and stumbled over to Ron and took hold of his shoulders. Ron now had two pairs of legs to try and keep up; he didn't think he could do it.

"There must be something, anything," A.J. whispered. "A spell, a potion, you people must have ways..."

Ron could feel his lower lip beginning to tremble, his eyes were burning. "I'm so sorry," he managed thickly, taking the other boy's shoulders. "Mate, I can't-"

"FIX IT!" screamed A.J., slamming Ron into the wooden door. He spun and turned on Abbey who got hastily to her feet and stepped backwards. "Bring him back! He can't – there must be some way-"

"There ain't nothin' we can do baby," she said, trying to keep her voice strong. "Even for us, death is-"

"He's not dead!" A.J. cried, and dropped down by Chris, his hands pawing at his chest, his face. "Chris," he gasped. "Chris talk to me, it's okay. Chris!"

Abbey screwed up her fists and face in anguish. It was like her body was simply rejecting the horrendous situation she now found herself in. "A.J." she moaned, running her hands through her tangled blond hair. "A.J. listen to me. That is the worst curse we got going for us, he's gone, we can't help him." She took a tentative step towards him as his form crumpled over the body.

"No," he whimpered. "No, please, _please_ no."

She reached him and crouched down to wrap her arm around his back. He twisted and flung himself onto her, burying his head on her shoulder, sobbing. She bit her lip and held him.

Ron couldn't stop shaking. Chris, the boy who had believed him and helped him without hesitation, with eagerness in fact, now lay dead at his feet. And it was all his fault. If he hadn't crossed over, if he hadn't come to Salem, if he had used his head and stopped two innocent Muggles from running headfirst into a world they didn't understand and had no way to protect themselves in, maybe then Chris would still be alive. But he wasn't.

Ron had never wanted Harry and Hermione by his side more in his entire life. He didn't know what to do. They were stranded in a gloomy stone passageway that might not even be under the school any more, with a dead boy in their hands and an insane witch on their heels.

Bellatrix. Ron instantly stiffened as he realised the only thing that stood between them and her was a wooden door, some fire and a cluster of OWL grade spells. He turned and pressed his palms against the door, then the stone wall. It was hot, and it was also vibrating.

"We have to go," he murmured. He spun round and rushed over to the two teenagers kneeling on the floor. "We have to go," he said, his mind suddenly clear. Abbey looked up at him

"What?" she said quietly, her voice like a mouse. "Go? Go where?"

"That way," said Ron, pointing down the tunnel.

"We can't go," she said as A.J. pulled his head up and dragged his sleeve across his eyes. "We can't...can't you see..." she looked at Chris in the corner of her eye. But everything was now very simple for Ron.

"On the other side of that wall," he said as calmly as he could, pointing back behind them. "Is one of the nastiest, most mental people ever to have lived. Not only is she pissed at us, she wants something that will be very, very dangerous if You-Know-Who gets a hold of it."

"I know Ron," said Abbey through gritted teeth, her face thunderous. "But Chris has-"

"We can't help him anymore!" Ron blurted out. He knew he was being incredibly harsh, but being Harry Potter's best friend had taught him a thing or two about life or death situations. "She is going to get through that wall any minute and we need to make sure the next obstacle is between us when she does!"

A.J. jumped off the floor and grabbed Ron by the shirt, shoving him into the wall for a second time. "He was my _best _friend," he hissed. "And you made us come here, and get involved and now he's _dead!"_

Ron steeled himself. He wanted to tell A.J. just how much he knew that was true, how he wished desperately things could have been different, but he couldn't. Instead he whacked A.J.'s hands away and stepped up to him. "I'm, sorry, I really am," he said. "But if we don't get out of here right now we are all going to die and I will not let that happen."

Abbey stepped up and pushed the two boys apart. She then closed her eyes, rubbed her temples, and took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, resigned. "He's right, we're in a lot of danger and we need to get the Hell out of here. How do we take Christopher with us?"

Ron was momentarily relieved that she was agreeing with him, but her last question made him cry out in frustration.

"We can't take him with us for crying out loud, we have to run!"

She rounded on him and pointed her finger in his face. "I said you had a point Ron," she yelled, "but you are being an complete jerk about this whole situation! The man just lost his best friend – Hell I care more than you do and you're the one that got them into this whole darn-"

"I KNOW!" Ron bellowed and balled up his fists, making her step back. "Don't you think I know?" He felt his voice crack and he looked at the floor. The guilt was squeezing him down, he couldn't deal with it now, he had to just keep moving. But the sob escaped his chest before he even felt it approach, and he covered his face with his hand, groping for the wall with the other. A wave of nausea swept over him and for an honest moment he thought he was going to faint.

Abigail's cut and bruised arms gently slipped around his body, just the way they had done for A.J. "I know honey," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Ron let himself be comforted a moment, then he straightened up, inhaling deeply to get some oxygen into his system and fend off the wooziness. He propped his hands on the small of his back and looked at A.J. He felt a surge of shame as their eyes met, but A.J. held his gaze a second, then strode over to where Ron stood and embraced him. Ron let another sob out as he returned the hug, smacking his back with his left hand and gripping his shirt with the other. They released each other and A.J. smacked him on the shoulder in return.

"It's okay," he said, looking at the floor as Ron had done, his voice also close to cracking. "We need to go, we can't...we can't save him now."

"We can hide him," gasped Abbey, not exactly happy but her eyes slightly brighter. "We'll camouflage him, then we'll come back, we'll look after him, when we come back."

A.J. trembled, but he managed a nod, and Abbey scooted behind him. "Help me Ron," she said quietly. Together they gently shifted Chris' body into a sitting position against the opposite wall, and Ron made a point of closing his empty eyes. Abbey took Ron's wand right out of his hand, and with one flick, where Chris had been now resembled a pile of rocks. Abbey created several other piles of rocks in the area around them so he wouldn't stand out. Clever, thought Ron. He was glad she was here.

"Okay," he said, taking his wand back and nodding to himself. "Let's get going."

They started off at a run down the stone corridor, their shadows dancing in the faint torch light. Please don't let it be the chess board, thought Ron. Not that he couldn't have defeated that again, in fact he hoped that it might crop up later, that would most likely be an easy win. It was just they really needed something they could get through as quickly as possible, something that would maybe slow Bellatrix down.

"Bitch took my wand," said Abbey as they ran, as if she could hear what Ron had been thinking. "That were mine, I picked it out in that store, the real fancy one in New York. Barely touched it and the cash register turned into a skunk." It didn't seem to be a problem for her to run and talk. Ron didn't think he could do the two at once.

"Here," panted A.J. as he fished something from his back pocket. "Takes hers." He handed over a short, black wand, which Abbey took sceptically.

"Doubt much good ever came of this here thing," she said, examining it.

The tunnel was gradually curving to the right, and presently the end came into view. There was a door, of course, but standing in front of the door was a smartly dressed goblin, his arms folded behind his back.

He watched them as the party slowly came to a halt, and Ron tried not to gasp for air too audibly. "Good day," he said with a very goblin-like smirk that suggested he didn't mean 'good day' at all. Ron found it strange to hear a goblin with an American accent; he wondered if his royal blue tunic was a uniform from an American bank. It certainly wasn't Gringotts.

"Actually sir, we're havin' a pretty damn dreadful day," said Abbey, putting her hands on her hips. "How bout y'all tell us how we can be gettin' by you, and then everyone'll be havin' a better day for it."

"To the point," the Goblin said with a respectful bow towards Abigail. Ron noticed that even in his grief, A.J. was pretty stunned by the appearance of a small, mythical creature in their path. "I require an offering."

"An offering?" asked Ron. He ran his hand through his hair, unsticking it from his scalp. "What kind of offering?"

The goblin smiled. "You have three tries to give me an offering that will suffice. You cannot take back what you offer, but only if you present me with something suitable will the door open."

"Oh man!" cried Abbey, flinging her hands out in frustration. "God damn goblins! Always wantin' somethin'."

"No," said Ron. "No wait, this is good. If we can just get through the door we'll lose Bellatrix." He turned to the goblin. "Can you give us any clues as to what you might want?"

The goblin raised his hand in front of his face, extended a long green finger, and wagged it back and forth with a tut.

"Okay...well, goblins like treasure," said Ron, thinking aloud. "Anyone got any cash?"

Abbey looked at him incredulously, then waved her hands up and down her cheerleading uniform. "The top," she began crossly, "I can hardly breathe in, the skirt barely covers my ass, and the spankies – well don't even get me started on the spankies. There ain't nothin' in here but me." Ron nodded and tried not to think too much about what she'd just said.

"Point taken." He pulled out the contents of his own pockets. "Okay, so I've got...some kind of money," he said confused looking at the strange currency he now found in his hand. Whatever it was it wasn't much. "A green smartie, two bottle tops and some owl pellets – food, not the other kind," he added hastily.

"I've got my pager," put forward A.J. His face was effectively blank, and his voice wasn't much better. He pulled out a little rectangular box from his pocket; Ron didn't know what it was but he decided not to ask. "It's brand new, pretty expensive."

"Thanks A.J." said Abbey, taking it from him. "That might do it, they like pricey things." She smiled at him and he nodded back at her. She turned and held it down to the goblin. He held out his hand for her to place the pager in, and once she let go he took it behind his back without even pausing to look at it. The door remained closed.

"I take it that didn't work," stated Ron. The goblin just inclined his head and kept on smiling. "Damn it, anything else?" He looked warily back down the corridor; how much time did they have left?

"I've only got a few bucks," said A.J. inspecting his pockets. "My house keys, a guitar pick-"

He cut himself off at this, Ron didn't want to know why but he could guess.

"Maybe it's a different kind of offering," said Abbey, wearily eyeing the goblin. "Like...something you have to physically do."

"Oh!" said Ron turning to face them. "Hermione told me last week she and Malfoy – Draco – whatever, they had to give something to a painting so it would open up and let them into a secret passageway."

"Well what was it?" asked Abbey.

"It was um, well it was blood," said Ron reluctantly. Having been excited about remembering this information he now wasn't so sure he wanted to cut his hand open or anything.

"Oh well that's easy," said Abbey happily, and once again turned to face the goblin. She lifted up her left knee, the one that got scraped the worst when she'd fallen to the floor before, and held it in front of his face. "That enough blood?"

The goblin raised his hand and wiped it across her knee, making her wince and suck in a breath through her teeth. Just as before he then put his hand back behind his back, almost without reaction, and the door did not open. "Aw Hell," said Abbey, putting her leg down again. "I thought for sure that'd work. What else does he want?" she exclaimed, her hands in the air. "He's had something expensive, something painful..."

"I don't think Dumbledore or Crabtree would want us to, like, kill ourselves or anything," Ron ventured. "But maybe it needs to be something a bit more personal – I mean, those two things were hardly a wrench to give away." The other two nodded which made him relieved, he wasn't sure really if what he'd said made sense. "Maybe it has to be something we'd miss?"

They all looked about their persons. They were travelling pretty light – no one had a bag and only the boys had pockets. Ron thought about his wand; he'd definitely miss that but it seemed kind of suicidal at this point to part with it.

"Somethin' special like?" asked Abbey slowly. "Somethin' unique, that we'd really rather keep?"

Ron's guts squiggled. "Hang on," he said. "This is our last go, I'm not sure, it's just a guess."

"Aw gorram it," she huffed and started fishing up her skirt. Ron spun away in shock, not sure what she was doing. "Two regional championships, one state qualifier and third base with Drew Fassbender." Carefully, Ron turned round to see Abbey dangling a pair of hot pants in front of the goblin, they were black with a purple shooting star on the back outlined in white. "Mr Goblin, would you like ma lucky spankies?" She looked at the two boys. "Just be glad momma made me wear proper panties this mornin'."

The goblin looked incredulously at the undergarment being swung in his face. "You have already given an offering," he told her disdainfully.

"What!" she cried, balling up her spankies in her fist. "You never said nothin' about only givin' one thing each!"

"Yeah," chipped in A.J., suddenly much more angry than sad. "You didn't tell us that was a rule!"

"I am telling you now," the goblin informed him with half a grin. Abigail huffed as she hoisted up her hot pants again, then she and A.J. turned to look at Ron.

"I guess it's down to you then darlin'," said Abbey, raising her eyebrow. Ron swallowed and rubbed his hands together. His mind was totally blank – what else could they possibly give him?

He looked fretfully down the corridor. "I don't know," he said, in a small voice.

"There's gotta be something," insisted A.J. "You said these guys like money and treasure and stuff – are any of your clothes expensive?"

"How the bloody Hell should I know!" snapped Ron looking down at the jeans he was barely keeping on his hips, the shabby t-shirt and the chequered flannel shirt. He pulled the baseball cap with the tick on off his head and looked at it. "I didn't dress myself this morning, these aren't my clothes – do any of the look posh to you?" he asked, holding out his arms, and turning round for the Americans to see.

"No," they both said in unison. He harrumphed and jammed the cap back on his head. Typical.

"Hang on," he said as something slowly dawned on him. "Hang on a minute. We know Goblins love treasure and stuff, yeah?" Abbey nodded. A.J. just raised his eyebrows. "So you'd think that's what you needed to give him to get past. But...but what if that was like a – a red herring or something? Too obvious? What if he wants something that's _not _physical or worth anything?"

"Like what?" asked Abbey.

"Dunno," he admitted, he hadn't thought that far ahead. "But we sang fluffy a song." He stopped himself. Chris had sung Fluffy a song.

"I don't think I could sing anything well enough to qualify as a present," said Abbey quietly. A.J. shook his head.

"But how about a story," he suggested after a minute's thought. "Or a joke?"

"I know a joke!" Ron jumped in, excitedly. It was the only one he could ever remember, Fred and George had taught it to him, but he thought it was really funny. "Do you think a joke might work?"

There was a loud cracking noise from behind them, and all three heads turned in panic.

"Try it," instructed Abbey. "Just do it, we're outta time."

Ron spun around to the goblin. "So, um, so this guy goes into his doctor and tells him 'Doctor! I've think I've been bitten by a vampire' and the doctor says 'Okay, drink this glass of water.' The guy asks 'Will it make me better?' and the doctor says 'No, I but I'll be able to see if your neck leaks'."

He watched the goblin, not daring to even breathe. The other two were frozen by his side. Slowly, the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Hmm," he rumbled low in his throat. "Hm hm hm." His smile became wider, but Ron couldn't tell if his joke was funny, or it was their impending deaths at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange making him laugh.

There was a creak.

Ron snapped his head to look at the dark wooden door as it juddered, scraped, then heavily swung away from them. Beyond was totally pitch black, but Ron didn't care. "Yes!" he cried, punching the air.

"You did it!" yelled A.J., slapping his back.

The three of them ran without hesitation past the goblin and into the next room; whatever was laying in wait for them in the dark was undoubtedly preferable to Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Don't let her give you any bollocks mate!" called Ron over his shoulder, lighting his wand. He did worry fleetingly for the goblin's safety if Bellatrix was on her way, but he'd have to fend for himself. They stepped carefully over the door's threshold, trying to see where they were going, but even with Abbey lighting Bellatrix's borrowed wand it wasn't much use. The door groaned slowly shut again, and for a second they were plunged into almost total darkness.

All I wanted to do, thought Ron as his heartbeat slowed. Was get home. Then some crazy Spanish teacher tries to kill us, and now we're lost in a house of horrors. Why couldn't have there been an easier way to get to Crabapple?

"What's that noise?" breathed A.J. The trio stood very still, ears pricked. There was a sort of whooshing sound up ahead, several in fact. Ron wondered if it was wings beating – large wings – and he gripped onto his wand. But then there was another sort of squealing, scratching sound above their heads he really couldn't place.

"Everyone stay together," he muttered, reaching out in the dark to find the other two. He strained his eyes as they flicked in every direction, acutely aware of any movement. His ears were desperately hanging onto every sound as well, but it was hard with the blood pumping through his head.

"Hello-o!" Abbey called out suddenly, making Ron jump so much he also tripped over himself.

"Shut up!" he hissed, enraged. "What if there's something out there that wants to eat us!"

"Aw relax," she told him with a wave of the hand. "We already beat a monster, what's the chances they managed to convince two beasties to sit and wait patiently down here." She raised her wand and gazed into the blackness.

"Probably quite a high chance!" said Ron a little high pitched. "You have no idea-"

"Hey!" cried A.J. suddenly, pointing over to the right. "Check that out." There was a small glow emanating from a point about thirty or forty feet away, it was hard to judge the distance. As it grew brighter, a second light appeared on their left, and then before they knew it a dozen or so orange flames were lining the walls either side of them, about fifteen feet from where they were standing.

Now everything was illuminated, Ron had rather wished it had stayed in the dark. They were standing on a small stone platform; if any of them had moved another foot or two outwards when they hadn't been able to see it would have been an almost certain death, as the edges dropped down into a seemingly endless blackness. Ron felt his stomach flip as he shuffled away from the drop.

The other side of the room was perhaps half a Quidditch pitch length away, where an identical platform protruded from the wall in front of an identical closed door. Connecting these two jetties was a narrow stone walkway, perhaps only a couple of feet in width. And swinging above that, their handles disappearing into the pitch, were several enormous metal mallets. That was the only way Ron could describe them; massive, shiny, thundering hammers. The circumference of the smooth, round heads were at least as tall as Ron, and they rocked back and forth gracing the surface of the walkway by centimetres.

"Oh screw this!" cried Ron as the other two stood with their mouths open. "Who in the Hell thought this up? We have to run across a tiny bridge avoiding getting whacked by the giant mallets, or else we'll fall into oblivion?"

He was aware his voice was approaching a shriek by the time he'd finished, but he thought that was probably appropriate. Abbey's eyes were very wide, absorbing everything that she was now seeing.

"It's the ones that're close together that'll be tricky – we'll have to time it very carefully."

"Oh you think?" demanded Ron. "That walkway is narrow enough anyway, and then we have to run across in-between swings, look!" He pointed at the two closest to them. "They're right after each other, how will we get past?"

"By being fast!" shouted A.J., throwing his hands out in exasperation. "You gonna let some little bridge stop you now? C'mon man, we got this!" Ron looked from the American boy to the obstacle in their path. It was impossible, terrifyingly impossible. All he could envisage was one or all of them being smacked off their feet and dropping into the nothingness below. But, he managed to reason, they didn't actually have a choice. Bellatrix could be outside that door this very second.

"Alright," he grumbled. "But we'll have to be _really _fast

"We can do it!" cried Abbey, punching him on the arm. She actually seemed enthused about this task, something that made Ron scowl. Despite his passion for Quidditch, athletic types generally left him feeling irritated and, if he was honest, slightly inadequate. It was probably nothing to her to sprint and balance and all the other skills he was going to need in approximately three minutes time.

Grinning, Abbey nodded once, then ran up to the first mallet. A.J. edged down the walkway and Ron followed, determinedly looking upwards and not at his feet or the blackness either side of them. Abbey watched as the closest mallet would swing by, the second hot on its heels. She then stood on her tiptoes and took a good look at the third hammer in their path. Just under her breath Ron could hear her counting.

"Okay," she said, smoothing down her dirty cheerleading uniform nervously. "There's not enough room for us all to go at once, so I'll get to the other side and call you over."

"Right," said Ron tersely. He felt incredibly sick, his headache worse than ever. Just take deep breaths, he told himself. It will be fine, they could do this.

"So – the first one you gotta go as soon as it's clear, don't wait for the second one or you won't have enough time before the first one comes back," she instructed the boys. "There's room to wait before the third one, and that has a big swing, so just go when you've caught your breath. After that I can't tell, so I'll just shout on back when I've figured it."

"Good luck," said A.J.

Abbey took a long, deep breath, and when the mallet swung by next she ran for it. Ron felt his knees go weak as she did, but within a second she shouted "Clear!" back at them. He saw her go again, and then she was lost from vision behind the three swinging mallets. "Clear!" she called once more, and Ron let go of the breath he was holding.

"How many more do you recon there are?" asked A.J. not taking his eyes off the walkway. Ron rubbed his own eyes.

"Dunno – that's three. I'd say there's at least three or four more." Just then Abbey's voice called out again.

"Okay – this one's not good!" Ron was worried that would be the case.

"How come?" he called out.

"You have to stand in the path of the fourth one for three seconds whilst the fifth one swings past. You literally have to jump as soon as it's clear otherwise the fourth one will get you."

Ron took a moment to digest that. "Okay," he said in a small voice.

"Right – here I go," she yelled out. Unconsciously Ron grabbed A.J.'s hand and squeezed it. He started counting in no more than a whisper.

"One...two...three..." How long would it take, surely no more than six seconds? "Seven," he said, screwing his eyes shut.

"Clear!" screamed Abbey and the boys cheered out in relief. They could hear her gasping for breath. "Alright," she said, a little calmer. "There's only two more – the first is no big deal, just run when it passes, but the last is super fast and there's not much room between the two." It was quiet for a minute or so, and Ron rubbed his temples. He really did feel very ill now. "I think there's actually a pattern where you can get through both at once," came Abbey's voice again. "Okay – I'm gonna go now. I'll holler when I'm on the other platform."

Ron crossed his fingers this time rather than hold A.J.'s hand. "C'mon," he muttered to himself. "C'mon you can do this..."

"I did it!" she yelled, jubilant. "I did it, I'm through!"

The boys cheered again, jumping up and down and clapping enthusiastically. "Well done sweetie!" yelled out A.J., then he turned to Ron. "Okay, I think I should go next," he said. "You've got your wand, I have sweet FA if she gets through that door." Ron waved him on.

"Of course," he said, relieved at the opportunity to postpone his turn. "A.J.'s coming next," he shouted out so Abbey could hear. She began bellowing out instructions, and Ron waited patiently as the four cries of "Clear!" rang out and he was safe on the other side.

"Okay," he called out when the other two stopped celebrating; he tried to keep his voice from shaking but it was hard. "I'm gonna go now."

"Remember, just go when the first one's past," called out Abbey. Ron nodded, even though there was no one to see him do it. He watched the metal mallets swing past a couple of times. He went to go then stopped himself; this happened twice. "You okay?" came Abbey's voice timidly from the other side of the chasm. Ron nodded again.

"Yep...I'm going now," he yelled back. He screwed up his fists, his wand comforting in his right hand, and sucked in a breath so deep it made him dizzy. The first mallet went, and a burst of energy erupted through his feet. He raced along the walk way, one foot after the other, the gust of wind from the second mallet whipping his hair back. He stumbled to a halt and looked back over his shoulder at the two pendulums he had just bested. "Clear," he said in a rather weak voice, and the two Americans whooped.

"The next one's easy," cried out A.J. eagerly. "Just run when it's just gone past you."

"Cool," replied Ron. "Okay, yeah – got it." He was feeling encouraged after his first success, and as soon as the third metal hammer swept past him he darted across its path.

"Cle-!" he started to shout, but a hot jet of green light hissed past his head, inches from his ear, and he screamed out, diving to what little floor was available to him. He groped at the rough sides of the stone walk way, his body pressed to the floor. "What the Hell?" he screeched out.

"Ron what's wrong?" cried Abbey, desperate. "Are you okay, we can't see!"

Another spell, this one sapphire blue, fired above Ron's head. "Someone's shooting at me!"

"Damn right someone's shooting at you, you little brat!" a voice screamed from behind.

Bellatrix.

"You think a bit of fire's going to stop me?"

"Ron you've got to move!" yelled out Abbey. "Get past the next lot – remember the three second rule!"

"Yeah," said Ron shakily. He stood up on wobbly legs and looked behind him. The way the first three mallets swung meant he couldn't see Bellatrix standing on the platform, but he could hear her shrieking insults at him.

"Mudblood filth, disgrace, embarrassment to your people. All will fall before the Dark Lord!" Ron shook his head and tried to block her out. He edged as close as he could to the fourth mallet – he had to stand for three whole seconds in its path before he could safely pass the fifth pendulum.

"Okay," he whispered to himself. "Go!" He stepped forward, he could almost feel the cold from the fourth mallet as it swung in front of his body. "One Flourish and Blotts," he croaked, willing his feet to stay where they were. "Two Flourish and Blotts, three Flourish and Blotts!" With a gasp he jumped by the fifth mallet just as the fourth one came back. "CLEAR!" he cried in relief. Now there was only two mallets in his path he could see Abbey and A.J. on the jetty ahead. They hugged each other in celebration.

"Okay babe, you just gotta run like all Hell when I tell you to, kay?" the cheerleader called to him, and he saluted weakly back to show he understood. Another purple spell flew over their heads and exploded on the wall by A.J.'s head. Ron wanted to fire something back in retaliation, but the mallets still swung between them. He wanted to know if she'd got past any of the first three mallets, but instead he concentrated on the remaining two in front of him. Abbey was following them intently with her eyes, her jaw locked tight in concentration. She raised her eyebrows and opened he mouth; Ron tensed to run.

"GO!" she screamed, and Ron sprinted with all his might. The pendulums rocked past, the wind pulling in their wake stronger than any of the previous ones, so much so he almost lost his balance. But he didn't, he kept one foot in front of the other, until he ran right into A.J. and Abbey who grabbed at him in relief. He let out a strangled sort of cry in victory, but he was snapped back to reality pretty quickly by another spell hitting the wall not two feet from his head.

"Through the door," he gasped. "Hurry."

They ran to the wooden door, and Ron could have kissed it when it turned out not to be locked. Flinging themselves through it, he and Abbey turned once again to fire as many spells they could at it to make sure it was locked.

The first thing Ron noticed was the blissful silence that hung in the air around him. Turning around from the door, he could see thick green hedges lining either side of a flagstone pathway; if he'd wanted to he could have stood in the middle and touched the edges of the leaves with his fingertips. The greenery was tall, taller than Ron by a good few feet, and it extended back to the wall behind them so it was flush. It then carried on about a dozen feet in front of them until it ended in a T junction. Above them was black, just black. Ron couldn't tell if it was a starless night or a very high ceiling, but there was a faint breeze floating by. A soft light glowed from within the shrubbery walls at regular intervals, but again Ron couldn't tell what was causing it.

Carefully, and without a word, the three students slowly walked to the end of the pathway and looked in both directions. To the left the path lasted about twenty feet before it turned right, and to the right it was about the same but with two additional left turn offs before the path actually veered left. Ron groaned.

"It's a bloody maze," he said rubbing his temple. If only this headache would go away, he thought. Everything would be so much easier.

"Do you reckon there's nasty things in there to slow us down," asked Abbey, looking warily over her shoulder.

Ron nodded. "Probably, but we'll have to find out I guess." He look left and right as his stomach filled up with a heavy dread. They could be lost in here for hours.

A.J. walked a few paces to the left and placed his hand on the bush. "Y'know," he said hesitantly. "I read something once about mazes."

Ron looked over at him as he bit his lip.

Abbey put her hands on her hips. "Well c'mon then don't keep up guessin'."

A.J. looked back at them and raised his eyebrows. "I've never tired it, and I don't know if it's true or not. But, this thing said that if you keep your left hand on the wall and follow it round at all times, that'll get you through a maze."

Ron stared at him. He was to exhausted to work out if that was genius or insanity. "So...you just go where you left hand takes you?" he asked.

"Or I guess the right would work just as well – I think it means that you don't go over the same way twice."

"Yeah..." said Abbey slowly. "It might take longer, but it would lead you out eventually, it would have to." She looked at Ron excitedly, but he just felt his shoulders drop.

"It's a _magic _maze," he cried in frustration. "It probably has staircases, and bits of hedge that like to move about!" He was thinking of all the corridors and passages at Hogwarts; you were lucky if you could go a week without being stumped by some section of stones that had gone for a walk or wanted to play a trick on you.

There was something else that was bothering him, as well. It was gnawing at the ends of his nerves. He wouldn't let on to his two companions, but the last experience he'd had with a maze had ended with his best friend dropping from thin air, battered from battling for his life with You-Know-Who and dragging the body of Cedric Diggory with him. He did not want a repeat performance of _that_ tonight he was certain.

"It's our best bet," said Abbey, resolved and more or less ignoring Ron's outburst. 'C'mon, we better high tail it 'fore that crazy woman blows the damn door down."

Ron sighed, and nodded in agreement. She was right, it was the only option they had really, it was perhaps a little better than running round blind.

With that, they took off at a run, A.J. in the lead and taking them left at every turn. As expected, they ended up going all round the houses, through tunnels, down and then up stairs, but after ten minutes or so Ron allowed himself to feel a little relief that they had not once run into an obstacle of any kind.

They slowed their run to a fast walk, and Ron wished desperately they had some water. The cheese toasties in the Decarabas changing room seemed a lifetime ago now. He rubbed his throat and gasped.

"Hey!" cried a very high pitched voice. The three youngsters spun round to see who had spoken. A tiny fairy, no bigger than the palm of his hand, flew up to Ron's face. She was glowing green and clad in a leafy dress, her eyes were black like a beetles. "Do you wanna drink? I'll take you to where you can get a drink!"

"No!" cried another voice as a second little fairy, this one luminescent purple, buzzed out of the bushes. "Don't listen to _her _ - I'll get you out of here."

One fairy grabbed Ron's shirt with her tiny hands and pulled back the way they'd come, the other took a hold of Abbey's skirt and tried to get them to go down a turning on the right. "No thank you," said Abbey, swatting the purple fairy away. "We know where we're going."

"No you don't!" said a yellow fairy, popping up from behind A.J. "You're going the wrong way, you're in terrible danger – follow me!"

Ron looked at Abbey. "What's the betting they're here to confuse us?"

"Hell yeah," she said, nodding in agreement. "Go on, scat! A.J. lead the way." They continued with their 'only turn left' policy, the three fairies flitting about their heads.

"Yes!" squealed a new turquoise fairy, flying out of the bush ahead. "You're going the right way, I've been here for years, follow me!"

"Just keep going A.J." said Abbey through clenched teeth. He nodded and took them left once more. Several other fairies, all of different colours, joined them as they walked, all telling them to turn different ways to reach different things. Food, clean clothes, a place to sleep. A glittering emerald fairy shot up in front of A.J.'s face.

"Come with me," she cooed. "I know where to find your friend, the one you lost." A.J. stopped dead in his tracks, forcing Abbey and Ron to almost run into him.

"No," snapped Abbey, running in front of A.J. and grabbing him by the shoulders. "There's a whole bunch of ways she could know about Chris, don't you listen to her." She spun around and pointed at the emerald fairy. "That's just plain wicked!" she scolded. "You oughta be ashamed of yourself."

"But I _do _know the way," the fairy whined. Ron batted her away.

"Go torment someone else."

They continued with their increasingly noisy entourage, but Ron found the more there were, the more they actually cancelled each other out. The strain on his head though was pretty awful.

All of a sudden, his legs gave way, the sensation they'd turned to jelly unavoidably prevalent. He grabbed out at the branches of the hedge and managed to stop himself falling all the way to the stone floor. His vision swirled dangerously and he sucked in a lungful of air as nausea engulfed him. "Wait!" he managed to grunt out as the other two were heading off. Abbey turned and called out to A.J. to come back.

"What's wrong?" she asked concerned as they approached. "You feelin' okay?"

"I'll show you where to get some medicine!" cried a pink fairy.

"No I _told _you he needs a bed," insisted the yellow one.

Ron shook his head and fell to all fours. The blood was pumping so hard in his ears it was hard to keep his eyes open or hear anything she was saying. "Headache," he moaned, grabbing his head with his hand and rocking into a sitting position. He covered his eyes and leant against the bush.

"A headache?" Abbey repeated, but Ron didn't take his hands from his eyes to look at her; the darkness was seemingly helping.

"Yeah," he whispered, breathing slowly and steadily. "Had it since I got here – never normally get 'em."

There was an awkward pause and Ron thought he heard some feet shuffling over the fairies' din. "Dude – we have to keep going," said A.J.

"Duh," he replied, still not looking up. "I've been dragging myself on ever since we got in this bloody tunnel. I don't...I can't..."

He lost track of what he'd been saying as his nausea went from being in his head to being on the floor. "Ewwa!" shrieked Abbey as the two of them jumped backwards and away from the mess. Ron leant back and wiped his mouth, attempting to get the foul bitter taste off his lips. The heaviness on his head had lifted considerably and he blew out a sigh of relief.

"That's better," he said with a grin. The two Americans looked from their sick splattered shoes to Ron's slightly more rosy face.

"Well golly gosh I'm thrilled for you," snapped Abbey and stamped off down the path as several fairies offered routes to find mops and buckets. A.J. leaned over and offered his arm for Ron to get up with. Ron took it gratefully; he didn't exactly feel right as rain but he did feel better enough to walk.

Abbey continued to be huffy for another five minutes or so until she forgot why she was mad. "Mah whole damn uniform's ruined any-who," she told Ron as they climbed down a ladder into a concealed part of the maze. "Might as well get some fancy new trainers out of this when they replace the rest of it."

Ron nodded and tried really hard not to wish for a drink. It was hard with a particularly robust fairy pulling on his ear and telling him an alleged way to a pub.

They walked. The fairies continued relentlessly with their directions, but they only followed A.J. There were damp, earthy smelling underground passageways, and tunnels that went on for ages, twisting and turning surrounded by topiary. But never once did they rise above the top of the hedge so they could get a look at where they were going. Abbey suggested at one point A.J. give her a shoulder sit so she could get high enough to see, but she hit her head painfully on some invisible barrier so decided not to try again. This made all the fairies giggle. The flagstones were always the same cool creamy marble and Ron found them quite hypnotic after what felt like hours of staring at them.

Fatigue was setting in now. The adrenalin was dissipating from his system and he was finding it harder and harder to walk. He had to concentrate on not tripping over his own trainers and keeping his eyelids from drooping. "I spy," he said in the most energetic voice he could muster (a little more than dull). "With my little eye, something beginning with-"

"Water!" cried A.J. making Ron frown.

"I was gonna go with 'S' for 'Stone' but whatever."

"No," said Abbey, shaking his arm to make him look up. "Look!"

Ron frowned as he lifted his heavy gaze from the floor to the pathway in front of them. Ten feet ahead their way was blocked by a waterfall as high as the hedge, cascading down and churning onto the flagstone where it apparently disappeared. The water was azure, like a tropical sea, and rushing so fast it was impossible to see into it. The trio walked up to it and stopped.

"Should we go back?" asked A.J. nervously inspecting the obstacle. Abbey touched the edge of the fall with her fingertips, then extended her hand inwards.

"Yes!" cried the fairies. "This isn't the way! Turn around!"

"Hmm," said Abbey, pulling out her hand again and shaking the cold droplets off. She took a good look at the colourful horde above their heads. "There's not been anything like this until now, and they don't want us to go this way – I think maybe we should go through."

"What if this is the way out," cried Ron excitedly. He looked nervously over his shoulder, thinking about Bellatrix. He was amazed she hadn't caught up with them already; she was probably blasting holes in the maze to get through.

"Do we just...walk through then?" asked A.J. dubiously. "How do we know how far back it goes?"

"Forever!" shrieked a silver fairy, grabbing his t-shirt dramatically. "It'll kill you!"

"We don't," said Ron, ignoring her. "But I'm with Abbey, I think this is the way, and I'll go first."

"You will?" said Abbey, which Ron thought was a little rude.

"Yes," he told her. "You went first on the swinging hammers of death, I'll go first on this."

"How will we know you're through?" asked A.J. "You can't really shout like on the last one." They thought a while, Ron looking back down the path again. This was silly, he should just go. The fairies shouted at them to turn around.

"How 'bout you shine a bright light or somethin'?" suggested Abbey. Ron was about to ask her what if it wasn't a straight path through, or it went down or something, but he decided to address that if it happened and get moving now instead. He remembered Harry's experience in the underwater challenge last year in the Great Lake, and thought to put a bubble head charm on himself before stepping in under the cool running water.

His feet still walked along the flagstones as if gravity was pulling him down, but as soon as he was fully submerged his movements became slow and his clothes floated out and away from his body. The water was cold but it was actually quite refreshing, easing the pain in his head even more. There was a luminescent glow coming from the hedges that still lined the pathway, and if he looked upwards it was still black just like before. The water extended on in front of him so far he couldn't accurately tell where it ended, and that made him nervous.

He walked as fast as he could, unsettled by the way his feet stuck to the ground when he forced them there. The rest of the time, between steps, they wanted to float off like the rest of his body. The bubble head let him have an almost unmarred view of the underwater world, and soon he spotted seaweed growing from in between the stones, then little fish swimming this way and that. Crabs scuttled along and a seahorse colony clung the leaves on the hedge. The further he went the bigger the fish got, and the hedges were no longer just leaves, but covered in all kind of aquatic flora. Coral mixed in with the seaweed and pebbles littered the floor, making it so Ron had to now pick his path carefully.

Something pink flicked out of the corner of his eye, and Ron spun as fast as he could to look but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Had the fairies followed him underwater? It didn't look like it. His heart rate quickened, he gripped his useless wand and tried his best to run ahead; he had been sure that there was more to getting through this lagoon than overcoming a fear of getting wet. Something else flickered pink but he didn't stop to look, he just kept running. His breathing in the bubble was literally the only sound he could hear as all else was muffled by the water. "Keep going," he whispered but it resonated and sounded much louder to him. "Not much further."

And he was right. There in the distance was obviously another waterfall, mostly hidden by all the plant life, but it was definitely there. He ran, his toes barely keeping him on the ground, fighting through the greenery. Just as he reached the water's edge he felt something tug at his ankle, but he flung himself through without pause for thought, tumbling, shuddering, onto the cold marble stones on the other side. His bubble burst and he gasped for breath, even though he hadn't been holding it, it was just nice to breathe fresh air and not the artificial stuff from the charm. He inspected his ankle and gulped as he saw several faint red sucker marks starting to well up. Whatever that had been he had no way to warn the others. All he could do was aim the brightest light he could muster and hope it reached all the way along the thankfully straight passageway.

After he fired a spell at himself to dry off the cold water from his clothes and skin, he turned and to look around where he had landed. It was a large cluttered room, dark and shadowy save for the same sourceless light blue glow they'd seen in the maze. The floors and walls were stone, and so was the ceiling as far as he could tell. Wooden beams crossed under the dome of the roof and the occasional bat swooped back and forth, their wings echoing in the eerie silence of the hall.

Built up from where he was stood dozens and dozens of mirrors, maybe even hundreds, of all different sizes. The were all arranged in a jumble, but Ron was able to start walking among them, like little pathways had been made to inspect them. There were big ones and small ones, ones that stood on bearlike feet and ones that were hardly more than compacts. Some had ornate gold frames, others looked like they'd been pulled off of public toilet walls.

Ever so slightly, and only for a second, the water behind the fall lit up. Ron frowned – why would there be a light this way? Was it Abbey? He eyed the water uneasily for a minute or two but nothing else happened. He coughed and flexed his tired shoulders; it was very cold in the room, even though he'd dried off all the water from the passageway. His breath came out in puffs of smoke and he rubbed his hands together, never for a moment letting go of his wand. That light was probably nothing, he reasoned.

"Come here," a voice whispered, making Ron jump out of his skin. He spun round, looking for whoever had spoken, but he couldn't see anyone.

"Who's there?" he demanded, gripping even tighter onto his wand. There was a laugh, a low pitched giggle, and Ron spun round again ready the smack any fairy he saw right out of the air. "Who's there!" he shouted, louder this time.

"Come here, Ron," breathed the voice, making him shiver.

"How do you know my name?"

His eyes darted over the various mirrors, all the ones near him holding his reflection. They looked just as panicked as he felt.

Except one. Ron steadied his breathing as he spotted a mirror where he could see himself, but like the mirrors at the Burrow the image it held was not just a reflection. The mirror Ron grinned but it didn't meet his dark blue eyes. "Come here," he said enticingly beckoning with a finger. Ron crossed his arms and felt almost relieved – he was used to items of furniture trying to trick him into things after a lifetime of living with Fred and George.

"I don't think so mate," he said and walked quickly away. Some of the other reflections nodded in approval. One told him to change his shirt. Another was whistling 'Fly Me To The Moon.'

With a splutter and a crash the form of A.J. flew through the waterfall barrier and landed on the floor. He looked around for Ron, who ran over to him as he started pointing desperately at the bubble on his head. With a pop Ron undid the charm and A.J. panted and shook on the ground. "You okay?" Ron asked hesitantly, patting his back.

"I have had better experiences," he admitted.

With a flick of his wand Ron removed all the water from about A.J.'s person and helped him to stand. "Yeah – not really my idea of fun," he agreed whilst blasting the beam down through the water again. A.J. nodded and coughed.

"Don't like swimming at the best of times," he said looking around. "What the Hell is this place?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. There's just a bunch of mirrors, some bats, and from what I can see no doors."

"What the task then?" asked A.J. "I can't see what challenge we'd have to do?"

Ron watched the other boy as he walked around the small patio area just in front of the waterfall. He held his hands out slightly in front of his body, not getting to close to anything, enjoying his space and air.

Ron shrugged again and rubbed the back of his neck. "I can't see a task either," he admitted. "Some of the mirrors talk, but I don't think they're that helpful."

"I'm not even surprised anymore," said A.J. shaking his head. "Talking mirrors," he added under his breath.

"There was another light just now," said Ron, thinking out loud. "Before you came through."

A.J. stopped pacing. "Yeah, the water all lit up when I was walking through." He looked at Ron. "I thought maybe it was you?" Ron shook his head and tried to ignore the nervous sensation in his belly.

"Maybe Abbey just got tired of waiting – after I got through okay, maybe she thought she could just go right in after you?"

"Hmm," murmured A.J. frowning at the waterfall. "The light was quite a while ago – shouldn't she be through by now?"

Ron didn't like the sound of this. "Hey – you see any pink tentacle like things when you were coming through?" A.J. stared at him.

"What?"

"I didn't really see it," admitted Ron feeling a bit foolish. "But there were these pink things, then something grabbed a hold of my ankle just as I got out." He lifted up his jeans and showed A.J. the red sucker marks. His eyebrows shot off towards his hairline.

"There's a monster in there?" he asked, his voice slightly choked.

"Yeah," said Ron slowly. "Hey – you think I should have a look a see if Abbey's okay?"

"You think!" cried A.J. "Who knows what that is? She said you can't use magic underwater, she's defenceless!" Ron very much wanted to point out just how defenceless he would be also, but he didn't. A.J.'s infectious sense of chivalry goaded him to reapply the bubble charm, and with a deep breath to steady himself, he stepped back into the water.

He had to fight back through the densest of the foliage, but soon enough he could see down through the underwater passageway again. There was definitely something moving up ahead, but he couldn't see what. Once again he attempted the strange underwater sprint as he picked he way between the coral and crustaceans. The closer he got the more purple the form in front became. "Abbey!" Ron yelled out, and then felt stupid realising she wouldn't be able to hear him.

The pink limbs were extending out of the hedges, long tentacles with soft round suckers. Ron tried to make his legs move faster as he realised with horror that one of the limbs was round Abbey's calf, another on her wrist. She caught sight of Ron and screamed out, though it was only a faint sound to him. She beat the beast with her fist as another limb unravelled from the bush and snaked towards her torso. She screamed again in rage and fired her wand at it, but the spell puffed and died in the water before it even travelled a foot. The tendril whipped around and seized Bellatrix's wand from her hand, sneaking back into the hedge to deposit it before finding its way back out again towards her body.

Ron finally reached where she was struggling and kicked the approaching tentacle away. He wrapped his fingers around the limb grasping her wrist and prised it off, the suckers visibly pulling at Abbey's golden skin. With a roar she dove at her leg as soon as her hand was free and yanked at the remaining pink limb on her leg. Ron bashed the other tendrils away as they eagerly reached out for them.

The one on her leg was not coming off, in fact is was winding even further on. Abbey was getting more and more enraged as she heaved at it and thumped it with her fists. A limb almost found its way round Ron's arm, he only just noticed it in time to shove it away. Abbey was waving to get his attention, still pulling with one hand and gesticulating with the other. He couldn't work out what she wanted, she kept thrashing back and forth with her hand, so he kicked off the ground and landed over by her. Without pause she grabbed his wand off him, rose it as high as she could, and brought it hurtling down to drive it into the flesh of the pink tentacle. It jerked off as blank ink squirted from the wound, finally releasing Abbey's leg. It began retracting back into the hedge, along with all the other limbs, and Ron snatched back his wand before it too was lost to the undergrowth.

Abbey grasped his hand and together they kicked and swam their way back towards the waterfall where A.J. was waiting. They scrambled past the increasing amount of plant life, and eventually tumbled out onto the marble patio area. A.J. ran to support Abbey as the two students popped their bubble charms and gulped down lungfuls of air.

"She's comin'," yelled Abbey pushing A.J. away from her.

"What, who's coming?" asked A.J. as he helped Ron off the floor for a second time.

"Holy Mary Mother o' God," snapped the blonde girl, patting herself down looking for wounds. "Who do you think! That ho-bag that's been on our tails the whole time. She was hollerin' in the maze, calling out for us an' bein' mean. I heard her so I flashed that light to warn y'all and dove on in 'fore she could see me."

She took a deep breath and looked at Ron through her dripping wet hair.

"Thanks for savin' me from big, pink and ugly," she said after a thought.

"We can't have long then," said A.J.

"And I lost her damn wand," said Abbey with a curse. "Ron, you're the only one who can defend us now."

"Don't be stupid!" cried A.J. grinning. "Abbey, grab a mirror – we'll stand either side of the waterfall and whoever gets the best shot first, smash it on her head!"

"Ha!" barked Abigail. "I like you're thinkin'." They each grabbed the nearest reasonable sized mirror and moved into position by the walls either side of the churning water. Abbey's mirror yelled at her that she didn't want to be smashed, but Abbey just told her to quit yammering. Ron stood, dizzy, bewildered and dripping wet. He didn't even think to dry himself this time.

Why did things always happen so fast, he thought slightly panicked as he clutched at his ink stained wand and stared at the exit of the watery depths. What were they thinking? They couldn't hit one of the most deranged witches alive on the head – she'd have them in a second. It's down to me, thought Ron as water dripped from his clothes and made little puddles on the floor. I have to defeat Bellatrix.

He shook. His breath fogged up the air in front of his face and his body ached. He was tired, he was ill. He didn't know what this headache was about but he knew it wasn't normal.

Abigail and A.J. fidgeted with the weight of the mirrors in their arms. Ron wanted to tell them to put them down, to hide, but he knew from the short time he'd spent with them they wouldn't. So would this be how it ends? He couldn't help but wonder. He'd never see his family again, Harry or Hermione. He'd be snuffed out just like Chris by an evil monster who wanted to help bring about the end of the world. And Abbey and A.J., they would die for nothing too. He'd dragged them into this because he couldn't work out how to get home by himself and now they were all going to die.

He felt a lump rise in his throat. He really wanted to go home.

xxx

Sarah Potter stared woefully out of the bay window in the teachers' lounge at Godric Primary School. The storm was just as thunderous and the night just as black. She sighed.

Heaving up the window, she rolled up her sleeves and retied her hair. The noise from the pouring rain was almost deafening, and from the spray back she could tell it was still just as cold. Great. She jumped up and down a few times to get the blood pumping, then swung her legs out of the window and landed on the squelchy grass outside. "Aarrrgh," she moaned under her breath as in an instant she became soaked to the skin once again. How many times had her and Harry snuck out this way when they'd gone to this school? It had never rained like this – even when it snowed it hadn't been like this.

Not wanting to hang around under the deluge, Sarah jogged over to the base of the fire escape and pulled the ladder down. The rusty black metal squeaked as she forced it to her level, but up against the elements she didn't worry too much about being heard. The frame was smaller than she remembered it, but it had been years so really it shouldn't have been surprising.

She started to climb. What had she been thinking? "I've got an idea," she muttered back to herself scornfully. Why had she left Terry and Hermione, what possible good could come of being separated like that? Why hadn't she stayed and tried to rescue them there and then? She knew her plan wasn't a solid one, but now she had to go all by herself, and then go back and try and pull them out of that cupboard that was probably surrounded by infected kids by now. Or worse.

She shuddered as she climbed the third and final level of the fire escape. She was positive Hermione Granger with all her brain power knew enough to keep the door from breaking down, but still...

"Well I'll just have to go back and save them," Sarah told herself out loud. "I'll use a repelling charm on the zombies or scare them with fire, then I'll open the cupboard door and we'll hop out the window to safety." It was good to talk to herself and plan out loud, it made her feel less alone, less helpless. "At least I'm not in the cupboard."

She reached the roof of the school and was almost blown over by the gale force wind. Her skirt whipped around her legs, and even though her hair was tied back it still thrashed about her face. Huddling as tight as she could to herself, Sarah marched across the asphalt and wove in and around the boiler vents and other random blocks of structure sitting on the roof of the school. This is where Harry and she would come when continuously hiding who they really were all got a bit too much. They'd lie on their bellies and look down at all the other kids tearing around the playground, playing hopscotch or leaping around with skipping ropes. The football and rounders fields were normally visible, but now they could only be seen if the lightning flashed.

Sarah crouched up to the edge of the roof where the little wall stood between her and a three story drop. Her idea had been to get a good look at everything going on around the school and the edge of the town so they could plan their next move, but because of the dark and the weather she could barely make out anything at present. She swore under her breath and moved along to see if she could get a better vantage point; where were those guys they'd seen lurking about the school, that's what she really wanted to know.

She had almost made a full circuit of the edge of the roof and was close to losing heart, when suddenly lights shone from a dozen points on the ground. Instinctively Sarah dropped to the floor beneath her and scuttled backwards, but whilst doing so the lights disappeared again, leaving her in worse darkness than before. She blinked and tried to convince her eyes to work after the sudden influx of light. Had they seen her?

Very carefully she crawled back towards the point where she'd seen the lights, and as if flicking a switch they all came back on. She frowned and dared a look over the lip of the building. As she'd thought, there were a dozen or so light sources on the Infants playground below her, fiery torches, all being held by people milling around, walking back and forth. They didn't look as if they'd being turning their torches on and off again in unison, and Sarah thought back to when she'd interrupted Draco playing on the piano last week. Perhaps they'd created a bubble where only those close enough could see the light. Parvati had mentioned something they'd done similar from when they'd travelled to Germany to rescue her. Parvati never talked about Germany, so any titbit she let slip Sarah always committed to memory.

All the figures were cloaked, and Sarah knew enough to recognise them as Death Eaters. Thank God they hadn't approached the people they saw earlier, they probably would have been cursed on the spot. Sarah felt ashamed for suggesting they should, they could have died and it would have entirely her fault. She shook her head like a dog in an attempt to get the hair and rain out of eyes. She blew the water out of her mouth, but it didn't make much of a difference – she might as well have been under a power shower. In an attempt not to feel like she was walking around in a washing machine, she started to think of herself as a duck. The water was just running off, she told herself. It was not clinging to every item of her clothing and dragging her down to the waterlogged ground.

On taking a closer look, it appeared that there was a central Death Eater who wasn't moving around like the rest. He was just standing still, his back to where Sarah was watching, whilst the others patrolled the parameter. An orange was glow coming from in front of him, perhaps from a cauldron. What was the betting he was the one casting the spell?

A thrill of excitement flared in Sarah as she pulled her wand out of her skirt pocket. But then doubt hit her; what was she going to do? Go attack a bunch of evil wizards by herself, then somehow break a curse that was holding an entire town to ransom? Her feet were pulling her. She could do this, she didn't need help, all she had to do was surprise them. And a good stunning spell would probably be enough to stop the guy in the centre's concentration and that would be it, no more zombies.

But she knew it wouldn't be like that. She'd only just started proper school for Heaven's sake, she didn't know any advanced magic. She needed to go and get Terry and Hermione so they could tackle this together, only then would they have a hope. But she didn't want to. She didn't want any help, she wanted to be the one to save the day.

What if they caught her though? What if she had to wait for Terry and Hermione to get out of the cupboard and come find her. The thought of being held prisoner again made her feel physically sick and her skin burned hot. "Over my dead body," she whispered, turning away from the situation and heading back to the fire escape. At least she'd been the one to find it, at least her reconnaissance mission hadn't been useless. She could go back with a proper plan. This made her smile.

She scaled the rickety black ladders down to the grass and climbed back into the relative warmth of the staff room. The relief on her ears upon closing the window and blocking out the drumming of the rain was lovely. She shook herself off, but then realised she didn't know the spell Hermione had used to dry them off properly. She stood there for a few minutes racking her brains, but eventually had to give up in frustration and just squelch off back into the corridor, leaving muddy footprints in her wake.

It wasn't far back to the classroom where she'd left the others hiding, and she crept carefully along the walls, eyes peeled for any kind of blue sparks. Would the dripping on the linoleum be enough to attract unwanted attention? She tried to steady her breath and not think of that, although her wand was raised and ready to act at any sign of movement.

She needn't have worried; the moaning alerted her way in advance of any trouble. She seized up, back to the wall, heart racing. As slowly as she could manage, she peeped around the final corner to see a hoard of children all cramming themselves at the door, trying to get into the classroom, just like they had in her house. Sarah squeezed her fists tightly and tried to concentrate on which incantation would be best. The trouble was though, she really didn't know that many incantations. Sure her mum had taught her about turning teacups into mice, and which herbs made the best cold remedy potions, but in hindsight why the Hell hadn't she been drilled in Defence Against the Dark Arts? There was a war going on for crying out loud.

Her skin felt hot again and her insides squirmed. Well, she reasoned, there was nobody else coming to the rescue, so she might as might buck up and think of something. She knew how to blast them back, Sirius had taught her that one, so that was probably her best bet. Taking a deep breath, she launched herself out into the corridor and swept the first wave of possessed children off their feet and away from the door. She pushed the ones on the edge of the classroom back inside, then set up a basic blocking charm in the doorway. She thrust the children and their teacher with the green beads back towards the windows, taking tables, chairs and pots of stationary with them.

The corner of the classroom with the cupboard was now clear, so Sarah was able to put another barrier up that stretched from the door to the wall, giving her a triangle of safe ground. How long it would last she didn't know, but she scooted round the teacher's desk and banged on the closet door.

"Terry!" she shouted. "Terry I'm back, you can come out." She turned and faced the classroom, and saw as the children clumsily found their feet again, blue lightning crackling between them. The teacher had managed to smash a plant pot over her head and was now covered in dirt – it didn't stop her from crawling back up from the reading corner and stumbling towards where Sarah stood.

The children from the corridor had regrouped as well, and were now pushing on Sarah's invisible barrier. She tried to swallow but her throat had clamped up, and she half turned to bang on the cupboard door again. "Terry," she yelled, her voice breaking. Her eyes were still glued on the children. "Hermione, I'm here!"

The zombies in the classroom leant on her barrier, pressing their faces up against it like it was glass, moaning in frustration. "_Terry!"_ she said, really screaming now. "Terry please! Please come out! I can't hold them off!" She pummelled with both fists on the wood as tears spilled down her face. Nothing was happening, no sign of movement, no one calling back from the other side of the door. Where were they? Why had they left her? She kicked the cupboard door and slapped it with the palms of her hands. There were more bodies pressing up against her pathetic barriers now; they couldn't possible last much longer.

"Please!" she screamed, leaning her back against the door and sliding down to the floor. Her fingers clawed at the carpet as the zombies wailed and struggled.

"Please," she sobbed. _"Please somebody help me!"_


	7. Farewell To The Fairground Part Two

Chapter Six Part Two -

Farewell To The Fairground

Okay – Quick recap where everyone is before you start!

There are 5 universes: A, where Harry came from in the first story. B, where Harry went to, met Draco and went to Germany. C, where Harry went to briefly at the start of this story, i.e. the Half Blood Prince cannon universe. D, America, and E, Limbo.

Harry, Ron and Hermione from universe A have been displaced. Harry is in limbo, Ron is in America, and Hermione is in universe B which has turned into zombieland. Draco from universe B is in Limbo, and Sarah from universe B has managed to get back there but is also stuck with the zombies. There is also a Harry from universe C, who just found his way back to limbo to rescue his Sirius from 'behind the veil'.

I hope that makes sense! Thanks for reading xxx

xxxxxxxxxx

Harry Potter shook his head and blinked. What on Earth had happened? He was standing in a field, surrounded by various coloured tents and dozens of eclectic looking people rushing around him. There was a fresh breeze ruffling the grass and the sky looked bright but stormy with the clouds hurrying on by. Where was the library? And the strange Librarian with all the answers?

He felt around his waist and was reassured that the rope was still very much there, although now he couldn't see it. If he ran his hand from his waist out he could feel it taut, but if he let go and waved his hand where he knew the rope was, he felt nothing. At least that side of things had gone to plan.

How on Earth was he going to find Sirius? He had thought the appearance of Limbo might have altered slightly in the time he was gone, but this was far more drastic than he'd feared. There was something unsettling in the air he didn't like; the people dashing past him looked less than calm that was for sure. Who were they? Were they all lost souls?

He picked a spot between the nearest tents and walked through. He was in a sort of corridor of tents, all of varying sizes and contents, some huge with production lines of swords and shields, others very small with huddles of witches around bubbling cauldrons. He looked left and he looked right, a hint of panic rising in his chest. He had absolutely no idea where to start, but after taking a few steadying breaths he just decided to take his chances and go left. Walking in any direction would surely increase his chances of finding his Godfather rather than just standing still and waiting for him to appear.

He gripped his wand and looked about. Some of the tent insides were very modern, more like factories or offices, but they still looked medieval on the outside. All the people were so random, so different. They were from every kind of race and their clothes resembled the contents of a theatre wardrobe the way they varied. Japanese samurai stood alongside Tudor soldiers and Arabian mystics, but the strange thing was they all seemed to be getting along just fine.

An explosion of fireworks made him jump and slip into a muddy puddle. He closed his eyes, balled up his fists and tried not to cry out in frustration. He didn't understand what this crazy place was or how he could hope to start looking for Sirius. He didn't know if there was a time limit on how long the enchanted rope would last, or even how long this particular version of limbo would last. What if reality changed around him? Would the rope still pull them back?

"Harry?" said a concerned voice, and he looked up as a hand reached out to pull him from the ground. He was faced with a beautiful young man, his clothing slightly Victorian in cut, his eyes wide with concern. Once on his feet Harry pulled his hand away, a little put out at being recognised by a stranger. "I thought Draco and Hermione had gone to fetch you, are you alright?"

Harry brushed the dirt from his clothes and frowned. At this point he decided honesty was probably the best route to take; if this guy knew him – or a version or him at least – he might know where Sirius was. But he couldn't help the first thing that came out of his mouth.

"Draco Malfoy?"

The stranger regarded him. "You're...not Harry are you?"

"I was the last time I checked," he snapped without thinking as the man waved his hands.

"Sincere apologies, I wasn't being clear. You are the Harry that was here previously, am I correct?"

Harry looked him up and down. "Yes. When it was a library. You weren't there though."

"No," he agreed with a small laugh. "I was very much tucked up in bed with a cup of tea before the alarms went off. Battle stations," he said by way of an explanation, waving his hand out to indicate the camp site. "Another Harry dropped in after your departure, he was the one that was meant to be here all along, not you. No offence," he added as an afterthought, but Harry was thinking too hard to mind.

"My...doppelganger," he said slowly, remembering what that other Hermione had said, the one with the straight hair and makeup.

The man nodded eagerly. "Exactly. But...how is it that you are here?"

Harry couldn't help but give a small smile. "I came through the veil, just like my Godfather Sirius did." He tugged on the invisible rope for the man to see. "I'm going to bring him back with me."

The man's face fell ever so slightly, but he did his best to keep up his cheery demeanour. "I see," he said, "yes I see it all now." He put his hands in his pockets and smiled. "Well it's a good job I know where he went then, isn't it."

Harry could have kissed him. "That's brilliant! I didn't know what I was going to do – where is he then, can you take me there?"

"I'm afraid it is not within my power to take you," said the man, "but I can direct you. He went to one of the central command centres with Godric and Merlin – your librarian," he added as an afterthought.

Harry barely registered that the librarian he'd met had in fact been Merlin – that seemed too farfetched even for this place. "You're power?" he asked instead. Surely the best thing would be for him to just take him there in person.

"This is a strange place," said the man gently. "There are limitations as well as possibilities that are harder to explain than simply experience. I am sorry."

"No," said Harry hesitantly. "No, don't worry about it, I'll take anything I can get." And he meant it; of course a guide would be better, but he believed the stranger when he said he couldn't take him, so directions would do just fine.

He explained in thorough detail the way Harry needed to take, which he committed as best he could to memory. His heart was racing with excitement, it was really happening, he was going to get Sirius back.

"Thanks mate," he said, eager to leave. "Hey – so are you a half life too?" It suddenly occurred to Harry that maybe he'd want to come back to the real world with him. But the man shook his head.

"I am not," he said, slightly sad, but then he managed half a laugh. "This is actually my home when it's not a field full of soldiers and wizards."

"Oh," replied Harry, not sure what else to say. "Okay then, well thanks for the help, um..."

"Alex," he told him. "I'm happy to have met you Harry. This 'you' I mean."

"Good to meet you too Alex," said Harry, preparing to head off. "Take care."

"Yes," said Alex softly. "Take care indeed."

xxx

Sarah eventually realised that if she continued crying in this fashion, she would surely loose what little she still had left in her stomach. She managed to steady herself down to a few shaky breaths, and gripped the carpet reassuringly with her fingernails. The cursed children were being held by her barriers, and slowly she got to her feet and walked over to the group in the classroom. Their small hands pawing at the glass-like charm, their mouths hanging open as they moaned away. Their white eyes really did make her want to be sick, but she hiccupped a final sob and held down her lunch. She thought the invisible walls would last minutes at best, but they were still here, and she couldn't help but feel encouraged by that. She fingered her damp wand as rainwater continued to drip from her clothes and her hair, leaving puddles on the carpet. With a flick she doubled the spell on the barriers, hopping it would give her the time she needed, then turned to the cupboard door.

She was thinking a little clearer now; of course Hermione and Terry would put protective spells on the door to keep the zombies out. But why couldn't they hear her shouting and pounding on the wood? She'd been loud enough she was sure. She stepped up to the door and tried the handle, but obviously it wouldn't budge. "Hey TERRY!" she bellowed in her best outdoor voice and beat the door again, so much so the zombies actually flinched away from the barrier and quit moaning for a moment. It didn't last long unfortunately. "Come out of there you idiot!"

Nothing happened. She wiped the drying tears from her face and huffed. What could she do, what spells could she try? Again she was filled with the frustrating shame of not having had a proper education. She only knew the basics, would that be enough to compete with Hermione the boffin? Her magic was extremely advanced, that much was clear from the last week she'd spent with her. Why couldn't she have been a bit crap like Ron? Why did she have to be so bloody good at everything?

She huffed again. Well, she figured, she might as well try what little she did know, what harm could it do?

She closed her eyes and spun the wand between her fingers, trying to remember the precise movement. "Oh to Hell with it," she sighed, and waved her wand hand towards the lock. "Alohomora!" she cried, almost lazily. It was never going to work.

Unfortunately, Sarah Potter was utterly surprised by two things almost simultaneously. The first was that her little spell worked just fine, and the door swung out towards her, making her jump back.

The second was that Terry Boot and Hermione Granger were tangled together in varying states of undress, and only desisted snogging when the opening door caused them to tumble out onto the rain soaked carpet.

They cried out in shock as Sarah spun away from the sight, her face burning red before she even made it round. She didn't know where to look, what to think. She wasn't even sure what she'd seen of who, but it whatever it was it was definitely too much.

"Sarah!" cried out Terry in glee. "You're back!"

Sarah shook her head, droplets of rain flying onto the threadbare carpet. "I – I couldn't get in. The cupboard door-"

"Oh yeah, sorry about that." He bounded into her line of sight as he pulled on a sopping wet t-shirt. His feet were still bare and covered in muck. "We were pretty much just thinking about keeping the zombie kids out, didn't think about you coming back."

"You forgot about me?" Her throat clamped a little. They'd just shut the door, disregarded the world outside, and left her to fend for herself the infected town?

"Of course we didn't forget about you," said Terry, taken aback.

"Then why couldn't you hear me banging?" she cried, suddenly angry. "I was screaming, I thought we were going to get me."

"Sarah," said Hermione, coming round on her other side. "I am so sorry, it was all my fault. I wanted the noise to just stop for a minute." At least she had the decency to look embarrassed, she thought. And why was she getting all the guys? First Draco now Terry?

She was instantly ashamed of her jealousy, this was most certainly not the time or the place. "You do know the world is ending," she snapped instead. "Couldn't you have waited?"

Both of them looked embarrassed now, and this made he feel better. She didn't really care they were kissing, she just didn't want to be left behind.

"Sorry Sarah," they both mumbled. The zombies moaned – Sarah liked to think they were apologising too.

"Right, okay then," she said, pleased. "Would you like to know where all the bad guys are?

xxx

Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd been this mortified. Not only had she let herself get completely swept away by Terry Boot, a boy she'd only really just met, but she'd been completely caught in the act as well. And her shirt was on backwards.

She let Terry take down the protective charms against the cursed children and sweep them aside so the three of them could leave. Whilst he and Sarah were reasonability occupied she fumbled around with her top and tried to get in the right way round. They headed right down the corridor, and she managed to finally pull it back on as they rounded the corner.

She shook her hair from her face, then let out a small "oh!" sound and stopped running. On the floor was a smashed goldfish bowl, surrounded by little pebbles and a pink, glittery castle. The goldfish in question was flapping about in a puddle, barely still alive. That must have been the smashing noise they'd heard earlier, she thought, before they got trapped in the closet.

"Hermione?" hissed Terry as he too came to a stop. Sarah turned and frowned at her as she repaired the bowl with a flick of her wand. "Hermione," he repeated, reaching out for her shoulder. "We don't have time-"

"It'll just take a second," she told him earnestly, and began siphoning water from her hair and clothes to replenish the bowl with. Once it was bowl half full, she elevated the little fish up into the air then gently slid him back into the water. "There we go," she said, bending down to look through the glass as he happily starting swimming around. "Home sweet home."

"Can we continue running from the monsters now?" asked Terry, his eyebrows raised. Hermione huffed and started down the corridor again.

"It's not the poor fish's fault there're zombies now is it?"

They reached the end of the corridor and were once again faced with double doors leading out into the relentless rain. As she came to a halt, Hermione's feet gave her the impression they had suddenly turned to lead, and rather ungracefully she stumbled into the wall, clinging to it to keep upright. Her stomach contracted as her vision swam in her eyes, and she let out a desperate gasp of air.

"Hermione!" cried Terry, and such was her state she forgot to be shy at all when he flung his arms around her, sliding down to the floor with her. Sarah grabbed her hand and felt her pulse.

"You're racing," she said, genuine concern in her voice. "What's wrong?"

Hermione felt herself shake as she fought back nausea. "Headache," she uttered, starting to feel scared at how quickly her symptoms had accelerated. "Been feeling sick for hours."

"Were you ill before you came here?" asked Terry, pressing his hand on her forehead and looking uneasily back down the corridor. Hermione tried to turn her head to look too, but any movement lead to a fresh wave of queasiness so she stopped. She had a pretty strong feeling though that the little zombie children could not be far behind them.

She tried to think back to when she'd begun to feel poorly. "I wasn't well in the car at all," she muttered, closing her eyes to steady the dizziness. "But the headache..." she trailed off. At Hogwarts? Before the leap? She wasn't sure.

"Draco had a headache," said Sarah. She was standing looking back the way they'd come, but now she crouched down by the other two. "When we leaped, he said his head was splitting but mine was fine." Hermione made herself sit up to look at the girl properly.

"You're right," she told her. "I woke up with the headache, it never went away." She was going to add more, but at that moment her whole body convulsed, spasming away from Terry. She barely thrust her arms out in time to catch herself on the floor before throwing her insides up violently. Tears leaked from her eyes as she struggled for breath, retching again, and then again. Terry swept her hair away and rubbed her back.

"It's okay," he whispered. Sarah stood up once again and moved away from the mess. After a moment or two Hermione spat out a couple of times and wiped her mouth. Cautiously she wondered if that was it as she sucked in several deep breaths and blinked her blurry eyes. She rolled her shoulders then leant back on the wall.

"I think I'm done," she informed them, staring spacely at the wall in front of her.

"Brilliant," said Terry, slapping his knees and getting to his feet. "And not a moment to lose." He hoisted Hermione off the floor as she turned her gaze sideways and stifled a scream. Sarah was already at her side, wand pointed and face set, but it hadn't lessened the shock of suddenly realising there were a dozen cursed children not twenty feet away from them, with more advancing behind.

"Definitely time to go," affirmed the youngest Potter. Hastily the trio backed up and fumbled with the doors, pushing them open and stepping out into the rain. The cold water was almost a relief to Hermione as it soaked her within seconds, cooling her temperature and easing her shivers. She let it run into her mouth and gladly spat out the remnants of bile, and realised that emptying her guts of the primary school floor had actually made her feel a great deal better.

"Which way?" she asked a drenched Sarah Potter as Terry Boot sealed the double doors once more. She fished her wand back out and nearly lit the tip before realising it would give their position away.

She saw Sarah point to her left in the dim moonlight, and silently they set off round the corner of the building. Having been an initial relief, the cold rain was once again becoming almost unbearable, pounding on Hermione's head and freezing her skin. She gripped her wand and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, blinking rapidly to keep the water out of her eyes. They reached the end of the building where a hedge was running along the base of the wall. "This way," hissed Sarah as she turned the corner and scuttled along the two foot gap between the wall and the bush. Hermione followed, and Terry pushed his way through last, his shoulders much broader than the girls. It might have been a worry how much they were disrupting the foliage if the rain hadn't been doing the same thing anyway.

Suddenly were plunged into dazzling brightness. Instinctively Hermione dropped to the ground, and her head swam at the sudden movement.

"What's wrong," cried Terry concerned. He made to reach out to her, but mid-way through the action he froze as well as the light hit him.

Sarah had awkwardly turned round to face them. "Sorry!" she squealed over the roaring rain. "They have a dome of light you can only see when you're in it – are you alright?"

Hermione pulled herself out of the mud. She had lost count of how many times she'd had to do this now. "Yep," she said. Grit had managed to seep its way into all her clothes, it lined her skin and hair and hurt between her toes when she walked. In spite of the sheeting rain her lips still burned dry and the taste of sick lingered in her mouth. "Peachy."

"We're almost there," Sarah told her with a reassuring smile, and carried on scuttling down the pathway.

They reached the end of the wall and hedge, where Sarah stopped to wait for the other two. "There's the playground," she told them, up ahead. "Can you see the guy doing the casting?" Hermione peered over her shoulder and squinted through the rain in the direction of her extended hand. There was a figure standing over a cauldron with bright orange and pink flames, defying the deluge falling upon it. Their palms were raised to the heavens and they seemed to be swaying. Several other figures were prowling around them, wands raised and ready.

"What should we do now?" asked Terry. His hand was resting on the small of Hermione's back so he could balance. She tried her upmost not to think about it.

"No idea," replied Sarah.

Hermione thought, her eyes flicking over the key points of the scene in front of her. "We need to pick off the guards," she said, leaning against the wall to keep herself up. She could think better without Terry's hand too.

Her limbs ached with fatigue and her fingers stung. She balled her hands into fists and focused everything she had on concentrating. "If we work out how many there are, then take the three best vantage points we can find, we can try and take them out all at once."

Sarah stared at her. "That...actually sounds like a half good plan."

"Thanks," said Hermione, closing her eyes.

"Well," ventured Terry, "should one of us go on the roof – like a sniper?" Sarah nodded.

"There wasn't anyone up there when I went before, that would probably be the best viewpoint."

"How're your aims?" Hermione asked as she pulled her eyes open. "Because I have to be honest, mine's not brilliant."

"I'm okay," said Terry. "Haven't had much practice but I've done a few spells from far off." They turned to Sarah, who flicked her sodden ponytail back.

"I haven't done that many spells," she admitted. "But I can net a Quaffle from twenty feet away."

"Great," said Hermione wearily. "That's great. I'll teach you a freezing spell if you don't know it already, and you can take the roof. Is there somewhere nearby Terry could go?"

"How about that?" he asked, pointing out away from the Death Eaters to a wooden looking structure.

Sarah nodded again. "That's the bike shed. Me and Laura Jackson used to hide up there and spy on the older kids when they'd go off kissing."

"Perve," said Terry, straight faced.

"I was nine," Sarah hissed back. "We threw our sandwiches at them."

"It does have a good slant on it," interrupted Hermione purposefully. "You could lie on the roof and you wouldn't really be seen from the playground."

"That's exactly what I was saying," said Sarah crossly.

"So, Terry's on the shed, you're on the roof, and I'll stay behind the hedge," Hermione concluded gratefully. Climbing anything might just finish her off at this stage. "I've counted six of them circling this area, Sarah did you see any more before?" The young Potter thought.

"I think there were a few more round the other entrances to the school."

"Okay, if you take them out first, then when I give the signal go for whichever two are furthermost on the right of the playground. Terry can take the two on the left and then any others from his direction, and I'll go for the middle ones nearest the spell caster. My magic's more advanced, so I might need some tricks if they get protective over him." She blew water from her face and wiped stray tendrils of hair out of her vision. "Then we can converge on whoever it is and stop the zombie spell."

"How do we do that?" asked Sarah, who was looking very pale all of a sudden. They were in so deep there was no way of backing out now, but Hermione felt a abrupt sense of failed responsibility at letting her get involved in this mess. She was only a child.

"Sarah," she began quietly. "You know you don't have to do this-"

"My whole family are essentially dead," she retorted, eyes blazing. "Harry's rescued me from You-Know-Who twice in the past year – there's no way I'm not gonna help them."

Hermione nodded as best she could. "Okay," she whispered, "okay, that's fine. I just wanted to check." She looked at Terry, who squeezed her shoulder. "Um...it's like an Imperius Curse, so I think we just have to break him out of the incantation. There's bound to be spells protecting him, so we'll have to get through them first, then a jolly good blast of Expelliarmus should do the trick."

"Awesome," said Terry heavily. "Sounds well easy."

They started going over how to do the freezing charm to immobilise the Death Eaters. They couldn't really practice, but Hermione went over the wrist motion meticulously with both of them, and the exact pronunciation so in theory they would just have to put the two together. And rather despairingly, that was all they could do. Sarah darted off round the other side of the building to find the fire escape she'd used before to get to the roof. Terry waited until she was completely gone.

"Are you okay?" he asked urgently, one hand or her arm, the other cupping her face. "You look awful."

"Well I feel awful," she said, doing her best to smile. "So at least I match."

He barked a laugh and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm not gonna lie," he said, his voice muffled by the rain and her hair. "This isn't the best of situations we've gotten ourselves in."

Hermione laughed this time, slightly hysterical. "It's not, no."

"We're gonna be fine," he said, pulling away from her. She instantly missed his warmth and shivered, but stuck her chin out and listened to him. "All three of us."

"Oh yes, absolutely." He raised his eyebrows at her sarcasm. "Sorry," she apologised and hugged herself. "There are just so many of them, I'm really not well and you guys aren't properly trained. If only we could call for help."

Terry shook his head. "You're plan's great – we'll take them out then sucker punch cauldron dude. Job done."

Hermione nodded, her eyes itching and hot. "Um," she said thickly. "I think I'd really rather prefer it if you didn't die."

Terry managed a small smile, then reached out to stroke her hair away from her face. "I promise I won't if you won't." She nodded, more confident this time.

"Deal."

He lent in, and touched his lips gently to hers. Then a second later, he had disappeared into the night.

The wind howled as she watched him sprint over to the faulty looking structure that normally housed bikes, sticking to the shadows and foliage for cover. She had her wand gripped ready to fire in case anyone spotted him, but he had a clear run. She could just about make him out scrambling up onto the roof, and then he was shielded from her view.

"Everything's going to be okay," she reassured herself, "everything's going to be just fine." Her eyelids drooped, and for a split second her head fell sleepily. With a gasp she shook herself awake, spitting out water and scalding herself. Keep moving, keep thinking, keep going. She made her way back to the middle of the hedge, and magically scooped away enough dirt underneath that she could exit when the time came rather than trying to heave herself over the top. Then she scanned through the leaves, looking for any change in the Death Eater's patrol. With a jolt she realised they were no longer simply circling the playground. Several other figures had joined this group and were talking animatedly, pointing back the way the trio had come not ten minutes ago. There seemed to be one cloaked figure in particular they were addressing, who also looked back along the wall of the school.

Hermione started to panic. Had Sarah got caught? Was their cover blown? The person in charge had ordered a handful of Death Eaters back the way they'd been pointing, and he arranged several in a line formation facing the same way, all with their wands raised. Hermione almost slipped as she realised with horror what they were gearing up to attack: the army of zombie children. They wouldn't care, especially as they were Muggles, they'd just kill them surely – what was a massacre like that to them? Fun probably. Hermione gagged again in revulsion, adrenaline shooting through her system and she heaved what little she had left into the mud.

"No, no, no!" she hissed, terrified and helpless. They had to move now, where was Sarah? Hoping everyone's attention was too focused on the cursed schoolchildren, she shot out her silvery otter shaped Patronus from the end of her wand. "Tell Sarah we have to co-ordinate our offence now, forget the rest, they're going to hurt the children." With a nod, the apparition sped off to the top of the building, and Hermione rocked back and forth waiting for the response, straining her ears for any signs that spells were being fired. But the rain was too loud, and all she could hear was the odd unintelligible shout. She tried to look over at Terry, but all she could see was the shed.

Her otter popped up in front of her face, making her jump. It just nodded once, then dispersed. "Let's go," said Hermione, every inch of her vibrating in fearful anticipation. As agreed, she shot the tiniest of sparks in Terry's direction and started counting back from five, praying they both had seen it. "Four," she uttered, trembling and trying to see who was standing where through the gaps in the bush. "Three." There were so many things that could go wrong, this plan was so underdeveloped. "Two." What if they'd killed half the children already? What if Sarah died, or Terry? "One." A guttural cry escaped her throat as she sprung up and aimed over the hedge. _"Immobulus!" _she yelled, firing as hard as she could at the nearest Death Eater.

He was midway turning to face her when the spell hit, and his look of shook stuck with him as he froze. Instantly she moved to her next target, missing on the first go but managing to hit him square on in the chest on a second attempt before he could raise his wand to her. She was immensely relieved to see two identical jets fired from the rooftop and hit another two figures into solidity. Sarah was right, she was a good shot. This was a fortunate thing, as Hermione was not. She missed her third target twice, and had to duck behind the hedge as he fired back. She rolled and aimed through the leaves themselves, thankfully hitting true this time. She poked her head above the foliage, assessing the situation. Sarah hit another Death Eater, then another. There was nothing coming from Terry's corner.

It had only been a few seconds, but surely he would have seen their spells and joined in by now? It seemed several of the other Death Eaters had worked out something was amiss and were rallying on the left-hand side of the building, at the other end of Hermione's muddy pathway. She quickly moved away from them, back down the hedge and away from her hole, but she figured she could just get out at the end of the wall as Sarah and Terry had done.

That was until she realised that end was blocked. A blond girl was stumbling towards her, dressed in a raged supermarket uniform with a tag saying 'Hi! My name is Marika!', moaning as she reached clumsily outwards. Hermione screamed, backed up and crawled as fast as she could under the hedge. She was now exposed on the playground in the enchanted light; it seemed like half of Godric's Hollow were swarming around the school behind the checkout girl, and a number of Death Eaters started shouting franticly. "Take them alive!" screamed one above the rest.

Not knowing what else to do, she sprinted as fast as her shaking legs would take her towards the caldron, her vision bouncing around dangerously in her head. Stop the curse, she thought, then everything will be okay. Just stop the curse. Spells flew across all around her, and she could only assume it was the rain that was putting the casters off, blurring her from view and preventing her from getting hit. She tried to fire back but her spells equally flew off in whatever direction they fancied. She turned to see if any of them were closing in on her, and ducked just in time as a green curse flew over her head. Her fingers gripped the concrete and she gulped, not dwelling on what the spell had probably been. A red jet of light shot out from the roof of the school. Hermione only just had time to follow where it went, and with a thrill she realised it hit a Death Eater right on the chest. Someone shouted something, and Hermione could just make out a figure waving from the rooftop. Sarah was covering her!

With renewed purpose, Hermione scrambled to her feet and carried on running. Now she was closer she could see flashes of light through the rain from the bike shed where Terry had been; it seemed he was firing behind the structure which explained why she hadn't been able to see clearly from further away. Who was he firing at? she thought, panicked. "Terry!" she called out, between gasps of air, she had almost reached the cauldron and its owner now. The witch casting the spell didn't acknowledge her presence at all, and seemed to be in some kind of trance. "Terry what's wrong?" She came to a halt and turned her back to the oblivious spell caster, and concentrated on taking out any wizards or witches still left firing at her. The zombies were further away and would have to be dealt with eventually, but in this moment they were far enough away to be ignored. Sarah was under fire now, and Hermione was scared someone would find the fire escape and corner her on the roof. Even though they'd been ordered to be taken alive that was no sort of guarantee with these kind of people.

"_Hermione!" _came the strangled cry of Terry Boot. "Hermione run, they're _everywhere!" _ She spun round, forgetting her own vulnerability, and shone the brightest light she could out over to where Terry had been stationed. There were zombies all around him, including the unmistakable form of Sirius Black, surrounding the bike shed and reaching up to climb to his level. He was blasting them back but a couple were making steady progress. One, a teenager in a hoodie, was even hauling himself over the edge and onto the roof where Terry stood. He caught him just in time and sent him flying backwards, but several others were already taking his place. His face was strained with fear as he tried to work out where to fire, how to escape. Desperation seized Hermione.

"Terry hold on!" Hermione cried, spinning on her toes and aiming several spells at the area around the woman, but she might as well have been firing at a brick wall. Nothing worked, and Hermione screamed out in frustration. Help Terry, her scrambled mind shouted at her. Then come back for her.

She abandoned the caldron and ran for the shed, her drenched feet slapping at the ground in Terry's oversized trainers. Three of the cursed townspeople had managed to find their way onto the shaky roof of the shed, and Terry stumbled backwards as he spun round to aim at them. It felt like she was running in slow motion; Hermione saw Sirius' hand reach above the others as he clambered on their shoulders. She screamed something as her feet pushed against the waterlogged concrete floor, her own hand reaching out in desperation, but it was no good. Sirius's hand connected with Terry's still bare foot as he tripped over himself away from the other zombies. His body went rigid as blue lightening rippled across his limbs, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Hermione staggered to a halt as the horror of what she was witnessing hit her harder than any of the spells she'd been casting. _"NO!" _she bellowed unbelievingly at the top of her lungs, her knees threatening to give way. Not Terry, they can't have got Terry. But as she looked on he straightened up, eyes white and vacant, and he began fumbling to get down and join his follows on a search for human warmth.

She thought the tears would come, she was ready for them this time. There were, however, none to be had. The fury that replaced them rolled from the base of her guts and tore its way from her mouth, burning from her fingertips, shining from her eyes. She turned back to face to Death Eaters

"_Alright you miserable cowards!" _she screamed to anyone that could hear her battle cry. _"Come and get me!" _

xxx

Ron Weasley felt like he'd been holding his breath forever. Abigail and A.J. trembled as they struggled to keep their mirrors aloft, waiting in the electric silence for Bellatrix Lestrange to appear from the watery tunnel they themselves had just escaped from.

Taking a moment to breathe and think, Ron realised it really wasn't silent in the lofty chamber of mirrors they had found themselves in, he was just concentrating too hard. It was filled with the sounds of rushing water, complaining reflections, his own heart beating. Their clothes dripped, the arches in the ceiling creaked and his head banged like a marching band had taken refuge in his skull. He squeezed his fingers around his brother's wand, rubbing his thumb reassuringly along the grooves, feeling the unfamiliar indents.

"C'mon," he muttered, blinking and squinting at the exit, desperate for any sign of movement. The trouble was there was too much movement from the plant life within, and once or twice he swore he caught a glimpse of something long and pink flicking around.

"The Hell she playin' at?" demanded Abbey, resting her mirror on her head, which in turn began scalding her afresh for her plans to break it. "Where is she, she weren't that far behind."

"Maybe she drowned?" suggested Ron quietly.

"We can only hope," added A.J. darkly.

Just then, something caught Ron's eye, something black and solid within the depths. His body rinsed cold and every muscle tensed. "Get ready," he hissed, his voice strangled, and the two Americans jumped into position. Just concentrate, he told himself. You can do this, just think what Harry would do, what Hermione would do.

The foliage was thrashing about, and Ron pulled his arm back, ready to swing down with the curse. In a fevered whirl of churning bubbles, Bellatrix Lestrange leaped out from the watery barrier, brandishing Abbey's stolen wand and snarling. Ron, Abbey and A.J. brought their weapons down with yells and shouts, but Bellatrix wasn't You-Know-Who's right hand woman for nothing. It seemed she had emerged from the tunnel firing a protective charm, and the two mirrors rebounded violently from the shield a foot above her head. She threw Abbey and A.J. back in opposite directions and they crashed into stacks of mirrors, shattering them and covering themselves in lacerations. Abbey smacked her head and crumpled to the floor, and A.J. sliced his left arm deeply, causing him to cry out. All of this happen in a blink of an eye as Ron shot out his spell and hard as he could.

"_Impedimenta!" _he roared, as she turned to face him. Her shield wasn't strong enough to repel him completely and she spun, slamming into the wall and only just missing the water.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ she screamed back, and before Ron could think he was blasted to the floor, his wand flung from his hand and lost amongst the debris. She scrabbled off the stone and lunged for him, straddling his body and pinning him down. "Where's the stone!" she demanded, grabbing hold of his throat. He choked for breath and clawed at her arms, terror sweeping over him. There was a crashing sort of sound, and she let go with one hand to aim a spell over in A.J.'s direction – it wasn't green but Ron was still desperate to see if he was okay. He coughed as she went to grab him again, but she realised her current tactic was stopping him from talking, so switched grips to push down his chest and point the wand in his face. "Tell me or you won't even comprehend the horrors I will inflict on you."

She smiled wickedly as her dripping wet mane of hair fell around her face, and Ron gasped for breath and looked wildly around.

"I – I have no idea!" he cried truthfully, trying to push himself off the floor. "We just got here, I have no idea!" She shoved him back onto the ground and snatched a handful of shirt.

"Lying is a bad idea," she whispered with a demented grin. She rocked backwards and jabbed her stolen wand at him. "Crucio!"

Scalding fire ignited all over Ron's body, and he screamed out like he never knew he could. There were no words he could form, only pain propelling the unrelenting cry.

"Stop it, stop it, leave him alone!" Abbey's voice pierced faintly through Ron's wall of agony, and even in his despair he tried to reach out. Leave her alone! he wanted to shout. They have nothing to do with it, it's me! But no words would come.

It seemed like minutes but it only could have been seconds before Bellatrix let Ron go and turned her attention to Abbey. "Incarcerous!" she yelled, her drenched dress flicking water over Ron as she spun and bound the blond girl with ropes. He shook as the aftermath of pain left his body, gasping for air and struggling to get off the floor so he could see above the mirrors. A.J. was already bound and gagged, sat leaning against the small stone wall that divided his level from the next one up. His arm was bleeding at a terrific rate and his skin looked almost grey. He was attempting to keep his eyes open with visible effort, but with what little strength he has left he still pushed against his binds.

Abbey fell back to the ground as the ropes hit her and Ron could see a trickle of blood running down her temple from where she'd hit her head. She tried scrabbling backwards away from the advancing Bellatrix, kicking her feet against the stone floor as her arms were bound, but there were so many shards of glass she had to stop. "How about you, little girl," mocked Bellatrix in a sing-song voice. "What do you know?"

"He told y'all – _nothin'!" _ she shouted, sitting forwards and glaring at the woman. "We didn't even know the thing was in this room until you said it was!"

"LIARS!" screeched Bellatrix, flinging Abbey backwards again in a shower of glass. "Do you think I am a fool? Crabapple wouldn't send you down here without telling you about the mirror!"

Something clanged in Ron's throbbing head so hard he actually staggered backwards. The mirror? Harry had told Ron he pulled the Philosopher's Stone from the mirror they'd found at Christmas, the one with the strange inscription, where he was head boy and everything. Was that the one? Was it here, hidden amongst all these others?

"She didn't send us," tried Abbey, "we-"

"SHUT UP!" howled Bellatrix. "I'm running out of time! Which one is it?" she demanded, pointing her wand at Abbey's heaving chest. "Or do you want a little of what he got?" A.J. was screaming behind his gag, yanking at the ropes, as Ron stood there helpless. Now he knew where the stone actually was he was even more panicked. He couldn't see the mirror he needed even if he did want to tell Bellatrix, which he really didn't. What could he do – there were three of them for crying out loud, how could they over power her?

Inspiration struck. It was only the smallest of ideas, but Ron's mouth was open before he could talk himself out of it. If it saved Abbey what was about to happen it was worth it.

"Wait!" he shouted, and tried shakily to move towards the two witches. Bellatrix paused in her stride and looked warily round at him. "I know where it is, don't hurt her, I'll tell you."

"No!" cried Abbey. A.J. shouted from underneath his gag.

Bellatrix placed her hands together and her face contorted into what she passed for a smile. "Much better," she simpered. "Show me."

Ron swallowed dryly and tried to remember where it was. "Um...it's this way." He began picking his way through the path he'd trodden when he'd first arrived, and in a few seconds Bellatrix was right behind him. "So, if I show you will you let us go?" he bluffed.

"We'll see," she said, poking him in the back with Abbey's wand. "I haven't got it yet, have I?"

"Ron don't do this!" said Abbey desperately from behind them. "She's gonna kill us anyway, don't give her the stone!"

Ron thought it would look good to falter, so he did. He paused walking and looked back at the Death Eater. "Don't listen to her," snapped Bellatrix. "If you get me the stone of course I'll let you go." Ron nodded stiffly and carried on walking.

"You coward!" yelled Abbey, her voice breaking, and this time Ron did not turn round to see. "You yella bellied, chicken liver piece o' crap!" She sounded like she might have started crying, and Ron couldn't bear to think about it. She'd understand, he told himself. Just keep focused.

With a jolt he spotted what he was looking for. "That one," he said numbly, pointing with his shaking left hand to the mirror that had called to him on his arrival, before A.J. had fallen out from the water. Bellatrix frowned at him and took a closer inspection. The other mirrors had silenced themselves since her entrance, but this one perked up with the chance of having a reflection.

"Come here," Bellatrix's voice whispered seductively from the frame, just as it had done to Ron. The witch's eyes widened suspiciously and she turned to him questioningly.

"It um," stuttered Ron. "It – I – Crabapple said it would call to us. I think you have to get closer, that's what she said."

Bellatrix looked back at her reflection as it cooed for her to come closer, beckoning with a finger. Ron took the chance to sneak a look at the now silent Abbey. The dirt on her face was streaked with tears, she was breathing heavily and looking at him with a mixture of horror and complete confusion. Of course Crabapple had not told them any such thing in the slightest, and Ron was banking on his companions reading this as a sign. He checked Bellatrix was still entranced by the foreboding talking mirror ("Come _heeeeere_."), then waved his fingers ever so slightly upwards. Get up, he was trying to say to Abbey, get ready, keep talking, it's okay. She didn't need telling twice.

"Ronald Weasley," she howled, her voice torn but her face determined. "Your momma gonna be ashamed o' the day you were born you yella bellied traitor!" She managed to get to her feet, and Ron turned to see A.J. trying to do the same, but his injury was making it hard for him.

"Shut UP!" snapped Bellatrix, and Ron's insides plummeted. She did not however take her eyes off the mirror as she got close enough to reach out and touch the frame. "How do I get the stone boy, where is-"

But Bellatrix Lestrange did not get a chance to finish her sentence. As her fingers gripped the gold gilt surrounding the mirror, her reflection grinned wickedly, and faster than could almost be seen she shot her arm out of the glass as if it was water, into the real world, seizing Bellatrix by the throat. She cried out in shock, dropped Abigail's wand and tried to push herself away, but it was as if the mirror was cemented to the table on which it stood, and the reflection's grip was as strong a steal. "Come here," she growled. Ron stumbled backwards as the reflection slowly pulled Bellatrix towards her. She kicked and screamed, yanking at the arm and the hand that choked her breath from her.

"Please," she garbled, her frantic eyes flicking towards Ron. "Please help me!"

Ron didn't know what to do, other than cling onto a large mirror to stop his knees giving way. He'd caused this. Could he just leave her to the mirror's fate? He didn't know what it was, but it definitely didn't sound good as the reflection cackled and drew the Death Eater in almost to the glass.

"_Please," _she begged, "I'll d-do anything!"

He looked back at his friends. Abbey was watching on horrified, but A.J. had slumped back to the ground, the stones slippery with his blood. His eyes were barely open, but when they were they clung to Bellatrix, hatred blazing with impunity. She had murdered Chris, Ron told himself angrily, as well as who knew how many others. She was evil and cruel and deserved a sticky end.

But as he turned back to look at her, all he could see was a scared woman fighting for her life. She braced herself against the mirror's edges as her reflection tugged at her throat, frightened yelps escaping her mouth. She may be a killer, he thought weakly, clinging to his mirror for support. But he wasn't.

He pushed himself off and stumbled forward towards her, and her eyes lit up. But as he reached out, Bellatrix's hand slipped from the frame, and with one last pull the reflection heaved her headfirst through the barrier between this world and wherever the reflective one was. She screamed, an unearthly, tortuous sound that seemed unending until finally, thankfully, all fell silent.

Ron's shaky breaths seemed to echo against the walls. Carefully he edged up to look at the mirror that had just devoured Bellatrix. He saw himself slowly come into frame, and just like when he had looked before, the blue did not quite meet his eyes. The reflection Ron was smiling darkly, leisurely licking his fingers, a swagger about his person.

Hastily Ron backed away, almost tripping on Abby's wand as he stood on it accidently. He scooped it off the floor, giving himself a terrible head rush, then hurried down the steps to Abigail who was nearest.

"Oh Ron!" she cried as he approached. "I am so unbelievably sorry for callin' you a chicken liver piece o' crap!"

"It's okay," he breathed as he managed the spell to release her from her ropes. Dizziness overcame him; exhaustion from the Crucio spell, the physical tasks beforehand, sleeping in a car in driving across an unknown country. The trauma of watching his new friend die, thwarting Rodriguez, traversing the challenges to find the stone. And now, because of his hesitation, someone else had died in front of his eyes. She was undoubtedly going to kill them the first chance she got, but in the state his head was in Ron couldn't stop himself buckling under the weight of it all. As Abbey's ropes fell to the ground, so did he, shaking and sweating. He heaved, wanted to be sick again, but he had nothing left to give.

Abbey dropped down to his level, taking his shoulders. "It's okay," she told him tearfully. "It's over, you saved us."

Ron nodded. "A.J." he muttered, holding up her wand. In a flash she snatched it from him and sprinted over to where A.J. was, propped up against the wall, chest heaving and limbs trembling.

"Hold on!" she cried, trying not slide in his blood. "Episkey!" The smaller cuts over his body healed within seconds, but this did to his arm was slow the bleeding at bit. "Diffindo." The ropes binding his arms fell away and she pulled his gag off. She shook it out, then used it to try and wrap up his arm. "Are you okay?" she breathed, checking him over. "Y'all lost a lotta blood here."

The Muggle boy nodded and gingerly held where his arm had been sliced. "Dizzy," he told her, "but okay. Ron – how you doing?" he shouted over.

Ron rolled onto his back and stared at the vaulted ceiling. "Marvellous," he croaked. Sleep would be just amazing right now, he thought. His eyes fluttered closed and he breathed in deeply. Someone poked him.

"Ding dong the witch is dead," Abigail informed him. "Now let's make like a tree, and get outta here."

Ron pealed his eyes open and stared pitifully at her. "Can't I sleep?" he murmured.

"Nope," she told him, crouching down to help him off the floor. Reluctantly he agreed and threw is arm over her shoulder. She lifted him up with relatively little problem.

"Wow, you're strong," he told her, impressed in his slightly delirious state.

"Yep," she said, propping him on his feet. "And you're heavy."

"I lost my wand," he remembered. Abbey huffed then held her own wand aloft.

"Accio wand!" she cried, and she enough Bill's battered wand squirmed its way from underneath a pile of debris and flew over to where they stood. Abbey caught it deftly and handed it back to him.

"Hang on," said A.J. limply. Ron and Abbey turned to face him. He took several deep breaths and blinked his eyes. Ron felt the silence pressing down on him; after surviving so much in the last couple of hours, the absence of loud noises chilled him. Would something else pop out now, or would they be left in peace. A.J. grunted and hefted himself up a bit. "We should find that stone."

"The Sorcerer's Stone?" clarified Abbey. Ron went to correct her then found he didn't have the energy.

"The one Bellatrix was after."

Abbey frowned. "Why? Let's just high tail it."

Ron was with Abbey; they should leave well enough alone and get out of this terrible place. But A.J. shook his head. "What if someone else comes after us, someone like them. We should take it and keep it safe."

"We could take it to Crabapple," exclaimed Abbey, a smile brightening her face. "Do you really know where it is Ron?"

He sort of shrugged and nodded at the same time. If they wanted to take it, fine. He didn't care anymore. "Well, I'm guessing it'll be in the same place as it was hidden in before, when Harry got it. I didn't think of it until Bellatrix said Crabapple had told us which mirror."

"What's it look like," asked A.J.

Ron rubbed his head with his free hand and tried to blink away his fatigue. "It's in a massive great mirror, with big feet and funny writing on the top. When you look in it you see whatever you want the most. Like you're deepest desires. It's a bit weird." He scanned the hundreds of mirrors surrounding them, thinking it would jump out instantly. However nothing caught his eye right away, and he frowned looking up and down the room.

"That was odd," said Abbey whilst gazing at a nearby mirror. "Why'd she think Crabapple sent us down here? We only found it cuz Rodriguez chased us."

"Perhaps she just assumed it was Crabapple?" suggested A.J. His voice struggled to travel all the way across to where Ron had wondered to. He nodded in agreement.

"Dumbledore basically sent us down the first time," he told them said ruefully. "He thinks things like that are good for you."

"Although," pondered A.J., ignoring what Ron had said. "What if they wanted us to try out the obstacles first...like cannon fodder. It is an amazing coincidence you've already done something like this before Ron, and Crabapple did say that evil wizard dude knew about you. What if Rodriguez guided us in this direction?"

"You think he was workin' with Bellatrix then?" asked Abbey sadly. "He was always a darlin' of a teacher."

"Maybe she put him under the Imperius Curse," suggested Ron kindly. "Making him do everything. If so he'll be alright now she's..." he struggled with the word. "Gone," he put delicately. Maybe she was just stuck in the mirror, he thought to himself. The Ministry could pull her out and put her on trial, send her off to Azkaban. The thought comforted him.

"Is this it?" floated Abbey's voice from behind various mirrors. Leaving a fascinating little jade framed mirror behind (everything was in black and white and looked a little like an old Muggle film) Ron weaved his way towards her, some of his reflections peeking cautiously at him as he went. He climbed up a level, then turned a corner to see himself surrounded by an enormous engraved gold frame. His stomach dropped and he jumped back at what he saw, and had to take a moment to remember what the mirror did. Because there next to him was not Abbey as it should have been, but a happy and beaming Harry and Hermione. The three of them were hugging in relief, and Hermione kissed his cheek.

"Yeah," managed Ron once he'd got a grip on reality. "This is the one." He looked at the strange writing on the top: _'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.'_

"Figured as much," said Abbey nodding. "Seemed a bit unlikely I'd produce a Grammy or a Backstreet Boy outta thin air."

Ron looked at her, then back at his reflection, only now it had changed. He was alone again, just as dirty and tired as real life, only sporting a knowing smile. He pulled his hand from his pocket to reveal a small, blood red stone, then returned it to his jeans. With a slight jump, Ron felt he now had the stone in his pocket, and he fished it out to show Abbey.

"_Eeeee!" _she squealed and flung her arms around him. "We got it, we got it!" she cried down to A.J., who whooped back in response. "How did you do that?" she asked incredulously.

"Harry said only some who wanted the stone, to y'know like keep it safe could get it out, not anyone who actually wanted to use it."

"So Bellatrix couldn't have never got it anyway?" she asked him, staring in awe at the shining stone. He shook his head. "Can I show A.J.?"

"Sure," he said, holding it out to her. She took it carefully and skipped off down the steps to the Muggle boy waiting below. Harry and Hermione were back in the mirror; they clapped him on the back.

"So what do we do now?" asked A.J., his voice struggling to reach across to where Ron stood. He slowly breathed in and then out, not taking his eyes off Harry and Hermione.

"I'll see you soon," he told them as resolutely as he could, then turned away to rejoin his real live companions. "I think we should try and get out of here," he told them loudly as he picked his way back through the mirrors over to where the black boy was still slumped on the ground, the battle worn cheerleader by his side.

"Awesome," said Abbey. "So how exactly do we do that?"

Ron sat down on a rickety wooden table home to several smaller propped up mirrors. His eyes roamed the edges of the lofty room, but there were too many obstacles in the way to see the walls properly. "Shall we...look for a door?" he suggested weakly. A sickening feeling was creeping through him as something came slowly back to him. Back in the first year, as he, Hermione and finally Harry had fallen one by one in their quest for the stone, they had all come out the same way. Back the way they had travelled in.

The monster in the water, the maze, the pendulums, the goblin with the riddles. And then the flying key room – would that even still be there after all that fire? They couldn't go back, they just couldn't.

"Okay," came Abbey's bright voice. "A.J. darlin', sit there an' hold on to that there stone. Ronald you take the left wall, I'll take the right an' we'll meet in the middle, sound good?"

Ron nodded and heaved himself off the table. He followed Abigail along a path between mirrors until they reached the edge of the church like room. Carefully, the two young magicians combed the walls, step by step, brick by brick, looking for any hint of a doorway hiding beneath. Ron was about halfway round when the harrowing sense of defeat started setting in. The adrenalin of the fight and the exhilaration of finding the stone were both almost all gone, and the reality was they were trapped in a room at the end of a labyrinth, goodness even knew how far underground. He started feeling dizzy again, gasping for breath but not really taking any into his lungs. He clung to the cement in between the stones and tried desperately to focus.

"How y'all doin'?" called out Abbey from the other side of the room, bringing him back to his senses.

He shook his head and rolled his shoulders. "Nothing yet," he replied, his voice as strong as he could make it. Panicking would not get him anywhere – A.J. was seriously injured so this was up to him and Abbey to fix. He blinked several times and then carried on in his inspection. When they met in the middle their eyes connected with the same frail resolution. "You wanna check my side?" he asked her.

She nodded silently, and they continued forward with their task. At one point Ron thought he found a likely looking crack, but tried a few test spells on in before shouting out and came up with nothing. Disappointed he forged on ahead. There had to be something – a hidden leaver, somewhere to aim a spell at or (he shuddered to think) offer up some blood. But nothing stood out, nowhere did he see any signs. He squeezed behind an enormous stone framed mirror close to the wall, and his stomach dropped when Abbey came into view on the other side.

"Guess y'all found nothin' either," she said sadly. In one fluid movement she crossed her legs and sat on the floor, her hands falling in her lap. "What now?" she asked limply, staring at the ground.

This would not do. Ron felt something light in his belly; of all the defeats he would except today, Abigail Preston's crushed spirit would not be one of them.

"We search the floor," he said, eyes wide as he scooted down to her level. "We check the supporting beams, we talk to the bloody mirrors if we have to – we are going to get out of here!" She looked up at him, and a small smile crept onto her face.

"Okay Hogwarts," she said, accepting his hand as he offered it to get her off the ground. "Let's keep lookin', not like we got Hell all else to do."

And so their hunt continued, A.J. and the reflections pitching in helpful advice when they could. 'Try behind me!' – 'That looks like it could be a trap door!' – 'Don't move his frame, he'll bite!'

That was until suddenly, up near the back at the highest level in the room, Abbey stopped and stared into one particular mirror with acute interest. "Hey Ron!" she hollered, putting her hands on her hips and tilting her head. "Come here an' look at this would ya?" Dutifully, Ron traversed the room, climbing up to where she had reached and looked in. He saw no reflection at all, and for a moment he wondered if it was perhaps glass and not mirror they were looking at. It appeared to be another room, although this one was devoid of any clutter whatsoever. "Look familiar?"

He looked over at her, then back into the frame, screwing his brow up. It did sort of ring a bell with him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. After a moment though Abbey gave him the answer anyway. "I think it's the school entrance hall," she whispered, not taking her eyes from the image before them. "If you crane your neck you can kinda see the stairway."

Ron's mouth fell slightly open, and he craned his neck in the direction she was indicating. There it was, the staircase where that idiot Bobby Mayhew had thrown the ball at them. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.

He reached out for the mirror's surface, but stopped short. "Do you think...we could go through or something?"

"It could be the way out," Abbey said as her eyes lit up. She beamed at him, took his hand and squeezed it. "Let's test it!" She grabbed her trainer and yanked it off her foot. Gingerly she moved it towards the vision of the hall, and where it should have touched the mirror it rippled like a pond and pushed through. They both cheered out in excitement, and she snapped the shoe back, took aim, and threw as hard as she could manage.

Ron watched elated as it barely slowed at all as it hit the barrier, then landed on the polished wooden floor of the entrance hall and skidded a good ten feet before coming to a halt. "YES!" he yelled and grabbed Abbey by the shoulders. "You did it, this is the way out."

But Abbey's face fell. Ron frowned, that wasn't the response he'd expected.

"What if..." she started slowly. "It's like the mirror with the stone. It's just showing us what we want. And then it'll eat us like that one did to Bellatrix?" Ron dropped his hands, and a wave of frustration swept over him. That would never have occurred to him, and he was almost angry at Abbey for suggesting it. He knew she could be right, but he just wanted to get out of there so badly he didn't want to stop and think. This looked good so he was going to chance it.

"The shoe's okay," he pointed out, making her raise an eyebrow.

"Yeah but the shoe ain't alive darlin'."

He held up his hands and closed his eyes, fighting against the headache that was rising in him once again. "How about I go through first? I'll have a quick poke about, and give you the thumbs up when I haven't been eaten. Then you can go get A.J. and follow me through."

"You wanna split up?" she asked in a small voice.

"Only for a minute," he assured her. "It'll be fine, you'll see."

There was definitely a part of his brain though that was screaming it could very well not be all fine. That Abbey could be right, that he could be throwing himself unwittingly to an early death.

The weariness was too great. Most of his brain couldn't care less and was gearing up at the first real chance they had found at escape. "I'll see you on the other side." And before she could talk him out of it, he jumped.

The mirror's surface was cool, and did indeed feel like the membrane of a watery depth. But as soon as he was passed it, no water held him and gravity took hold as usual. He crashed to the floor, rolling ungracefully until coming to a halt on his back, arms and legs splayed outwards. He took deep lungfulls of air drenched in humidity, the tang of foreign soil hanging on it like perfume. When he had the strength to lift his head, Ron could see he was certainly in the hall they had passed through several hours ago. An emotional cry escaped his throat, and grinning he looked back to where he'd just arrived from.

On this side, the mirror looked like a regular mirror. He watched his grin soften into a small smile, and his hand reach out to touch the reflective surface. It was hard.

"I think you can come through," he said to himself, hoping Abbey could still see him on the other side. He gave a thumbs up as well just in case. He figured it would take her a good few minutes to fetch A.J., but uneasiness tingled in belly as the seconds turned into minutes.

To distract himself, he turned from the mirror and retrieved Abbey's white trainer from where it had landed earlier. There was no longer a comforting pool of sunlight falling on the hall's floor as it had done before, and as Ron moved over to the windows he could see almost nothing but grey. It appeared that the storm that had been growling since his arrival had broken with tremendous force, and rain was now lashing down the window panes, making it impossible for him to see any more than a few feet outside of the building. Thunder boomed through the walls, vibrations rumbling through the floor and up Ron's legs. He took a few steps back from the windows.

There was a clatter from the top of the stairs and Ron spun round instinctively. A couple of older students were either side a small group of what had to be first years, and they were tumbling through the doors on the higher level, a chair and vase of flowers crashing to the ground as they did. All were facing the way they'd come, wands brandished, fear on their faces.

"Get downstairs!" screeched a Chinese looking girl to the rest, and her fellow older student began herding the younger ones down. The girl fired several spells at the door, then hurtled down the steps after them. The older student in the lead, a tall fair haired boy, had a torn sleeve and blood running down his arm.

"What are you doing!" he yelled when he caught sight of Ron standing in the middle of the floor. "They're right behind us, why haven't you evacuated!"

Ron felt his mouth fall open as they neared the base of the staircase. "Evacuated?" he repeated incredulously. What in the Fairying Forrest could possibly have happened now?

"Didn't you hear the alarms?" cried the girl authoritatively as they landed on the floor. "Get out now!" And without a second glace they pounded over to the entrance doors, flung them open, and sprinted out into the pouring rain. Ron became aware his chest was heaving and his heart was thumping. He looked back up the stairs in trepidation, and was horrified to see they were vibrating every few seconds. Someone was trying to get through.

The sound of the rain had engulfed the echoing entrance hall, and it bounced off the walls as Ron backed away once more to the mirror. A gargoyle, the one they had escaped behind to get down into the tunnels before, was stood not far off from the mirror gateway, and Ron stationed himself behind it. The stone shape mostly hid him from anyone coming down the stairs, and he hoped if they were distracted (whoever 'they' were) they wouldn't notice him.

He held his hands up in front of the mirror, in what he hoped was a gesture that read 'don't come through yet, apparently there are nutters on the loose'. This definitely has to be the real world, Ron thought to himself as the rain smattered on the flagstones by the door. He just didn't have the energy to conjure up any more crap that could happen to them.

The doors at the top of the stairs splintered and swung open, bringing with them the shouts of several, fully grown, definitely British individuals. Ron shrunk behind his goblin, bringing his arms in but still opening his palms. Don't come through now he prayed.

"Get outta my way!" barked one of the people up above to another. "They'll have got away by now!"

"It's not my fault!" snapped back another voice as the group, of about half a dozen from what Ron could see, hammered down the steps and out the front door. Before they left he got a good look at their clothing, but really a glimpse was all he needed. Death Eaters.

He shuddered and looked as they vanished completely into the grey haze outside, then turned back to the mirror. Were they there, Abbey and A.J., waiting behind the glass? Only on way to find out. He waved his hands towards himself: come through, it's okay now.

A bare leg, followed by one covered in denim, slowly slid their way out through the mirror's surface. The bodies of Abbey and A.J. were not far behind, and eventually they found themselves stood in the fresh air of the draughty entrance hall, sucking in breaths of relief. "Why did we have to wait?" asked A.J., gripping onto Abbey for support.

Ron looked warily over his shoulder but no one else had appeared. "Some students ran through," he explained, trying not to let himself shake too much. "They said the school had been evacuated. And then...then some Death Eaters chased after them."

Abbey's face froze in a look that suggested passing out was not beyond the realm of possibility. "What are...Death Eaters," said A.J. slowly.

"The Wizarding version of the SS," Abbey told him through clenched teeth. "Though not quite so cute an' cuddly."

"You-Know-Who's followers," Ron added for clarification. "However they don't normally attack schools in broad daylight. Have you still got the stone?" A.J. nodded and fished it out of his pocket. Ron felt like his mind was skipping every which way without much consideration for clarity or relationship of subject matter. But his basic train of thought had been there was no way he'd shown up, found the stone, and these Death Eaters weren't here for both. "Would you mind if I took it?"

A.J. shook his head and placed it in his hand.

"Be my guest."

He secured it in his pocket with a nod, then turned towards the front door. "Should we go out there do you think?" he asked, his voice echoing in the empty entrance hall.

"We should probably find Crabapple," said Abbey, still propping A.J. with some visible effort. Ron suddenly realised he still had her shoe in his hands, so handed it back to her and took over the job of A.J.'s crutch whilst she put it back on. "Maybe we could find out what's really goin' on," she said. "Should we try her office?"

Ron shook his head, remembering the students barricading the door. "I think everyone's definitely left. Do you have a place where you meet in emergencies?" They often ran drills at Hogwarts where all the classes would empty out onto the grass near the forest, ensuring they knew what to do in the event of a fire, or more likely when one of Hagrid's so called 'pets' got themselves loose and decided it wanted to make friends.

"The Quodpot Stadium," said Abbey. "I know a way between the Divination buildings and Sixth Year dorms. Let's go."

A.J. looked faintly green, but with determination the three students set off, creeping up to the front door where the rain was still thrashing down. They peered around the edges of the door frame, trying to see what was happening out in the main concourse. The rainwater was unlike anything Ron had ever seen before; huge, powerful droplets smashing into the ground, spraying metallic tasting mist back up into the air. It was so heavy Ron could still only make vague shapes out once he tried looking more than eight or ten meters, but there were so many shapes hurtling about he could pretty much guess what was going on. Students were screaming and running in every direction, spells trying to fire through the falling water. There were figures strewn on the cobblestones and in the muddy grass – some could only have been half Ron's size, and he prayed silently they were no more than unconscious.

"C'mon," hissed Abbey, and with deep breaths they plunged out into the storm, the rain drops forcefully hitting Ron's face giving him a much needed wake up call. Keep alert, he told himself. This is almost over, just keep moving.

He and Abbey both had their wands out, but they made it to the ally way between the buildings without incident. Their feet splashed the puddles back up their legs as they stumbled on, terror and fatigue threatening to take their steps out from under them.

As they reached the end of the alley way, a large figure stepped in front of them from the open space, blocking the way out. The trio came to a halt, Ron and Abbey raising their wands protectively. Friend or foe, thought Ron desperately, friend or foe?

"Miss Preston?" came a voice floating over the torrent. Ron felt Abbey's whole demeanour deflate by his side.

"Professor Crabapple," she breathed in harrowed relief, lowering her wand and rushing towards the woman. Ron could see now, if he shielded his eyes with his hand, the outline of the imposing Salem Headmistress, water running from her features as if she were standing beneath some invisible shower.

"Oh Abigail," she cried, and threw her arms around her as she began to shake. "I've been so worried, where on Earth have you been?"

"Rodriguez," she croaked as A.J. dropped his arm around Ron's shoulders again, letting him take some of his weight. "He attacked us, in the locker room, an' we found all these crazy obstacles under the school, an' a dog, an' there was fire, an' water, an' big swingin' things, an' a witch named Bellatrix killed Chris!" Her pitch had become quite hysterical and Ron was concerned she might need to breathe more if she was going to stay conscious.

Crabapple stared at them in horror. "My God, this is a disaster."

"Bellatrix is dead," A.J. told the older woman. "But we don't know what happened to Rodriguez."

"Yes, well, we'll deal with that in due course," she told them. "But first, Ronald Weasley, you must give me the Sorcerer's Stone immediately." Ron blinked through the rainwater.

"The stone?" he asked confused.

"Yes," she replied, earnestly. "You do have it don't you? I thought-"

"We didn't even mention the stone," said A.J. warily as Abbey let go of her teacher and frowned at her.

"Ronald," Crabapple said, smiling as the rain streamed through her tangled curls and down her shoulders. "A witch such as myself has picked up a few tricks along the way. The power it's radiating, it would be hard for me not to sense it was here. You've done incredibly well to retrieve it – but then I guess it's not the first time something like this has happened to you now is it?"

Ron shifted his weight as two drenched students ran past the ally way exit without even the slightest pause. "No," he agreed, "it's not." He resisted the urge to reach into his pocket and hold the stone for comfort. "Funny that."

"Don't you see?" she asked him earnestly, taking a step forward. "This is why you were brought here – of all the universes you could have travelled to you arrived in the one where you were needed most. Your friend Harry experienced the same thing by all accounts."

Ron stared at the woman, not caring if his mouth was hanging open. He roused himself to spit out the rainwater and speak to her. "How could you possibly know all that? I don't even really know all that."

"It's okay," she told him kindly, resting her hand on her ample chest. "I've been doing everything in my power to find a way to send you home – I've garnered all I can, there's a wealth of information if you just look hard enough." She tried to shake the water from her hair and took another step towards him and A.J. Abbey stood where she was, a frown still dominating her features. "These leaps, they have a way of pulling people in the right direction, I think. You and the Harry Potter of your world, you were the light in the dark, leading those around you to their destinies."

Ron blinked the water from his eyes and shivered as his stomached turned again. What utter codswallop, he thought.

"Okay," was what he said out loud. "So I was meant to come here and find the stone – why? I thought there was that prophecy where I was the king and all that, are you telling me that's going on at the same time?"

A.J. was tremendously heavy on his shoulder, slipping downwards on his sopping shirt, but he dug deep and shrugged him upwards again. Crabapple held her hands up as if she were about to launch into a sermon; Ron was sure he didn't remember her being this airy-fairy in her office.

"Your fate is intertwining," she said rapturously. "I believe you were meant to find the stone so we may keep it safe, use it as a weapon." She pointed to him animatedly. "This stone, this is the instrument, this is how we will rule!"

"Rule?" piped up Abbey. "A weapon? How'll it do that? Ron said only somebody who _didn't _wanna use the stone could get it out of the mirror?"

"Precisely," beamed the Headmistress. "That's why it had to be you, Ron, Bellatrix would never have found it. Please, I implore you to let me have it."

Ron shook his head as the pounding got worse.

"Did Rodriguez know that?" Ron looked at A.J. as he spoke, as he stood on his own two feet and stared at Crabapple. "Did he know Ron had to get the stone...did you...did you send him after us?"

Crabapple didn't move a muscle, not one change altered her expression or stance, save a small smile that twitched uncomfortably at her face. "Give me the stone Ron," she said evenly. But Ron stepped backwards, giving into the urge to grab the stone in his pocket, his wand gripped by his side.

"He attacked us," he spluttered. "He chased us, he could have really hurt us – why didn't you just ask us to go down there if you needed us for crying out loud!"

"I didn't send Professor Rodriguez after you," she said sternly, her eyes blazing. "That was Bellatrix's idea, and a very poor one at that."

Ron felt something crush inside of him – dissolve, die. His knees felt like they would buckle if he didn't stop them. "How do you know it was Bellatrix's idea?" he whispered; it was more of a plea than a question.

Crabapple sighed, rolled her eyes and pointed her wand directly at Ron's chest. "Because she always wants all the glory," she told them, exasperated.

That was it then, thought Ron as Abbey grabbed the wall of the building with one hand and covered her mouth with the other. Everyone was out to get them, no one was on their side.

"I didn't want it to come to this!" cried Crabapple in frustration. "I tried playing along so we could go our separate ways, but you had to push it." She shook her head in a gesture of genuine disappointment. "Why couldn't you have just given me the stone?"

"What are you gonna do with it?" Ron asked her futilely, holding his wand resolutely up. She wasn't getting it without a fight, that was for sure.

"He has a plan," she said, glowing, her eyes reaching with her hands to the towering heavens. "There is a battle raging on a plain of existence we cannot comprehend, and my master knows there is another like him there, a version that has all but died at the hands of your Harry, the traveller from another world. It is they who are destined to fight this battle, and once the worlds collapse and all becomes one, it is my master who will have the stone to return this king of all kings to his former glory. We will be victorious!"

The wand pointing at Ron's chest was trembling, as was Ron. "So what are you gonna do with us then?" he croaked, all the information he'd just heard whizzing about in his brain, trying to be made sense of.

Crabapple's shoulders slumped and her face fell. "Can't you see," she appealed to them, the rain lashing down as hard as ever. "That there's no way now I can let you live?"

Yeah, thought Ron as everything seemed to go into slow motion. Yeah, no. I can see that.

xxx

The music was soaring. Every surface seemed to glitter, and the air was heavy with spice. A single bead of sweat ran iniquitously down the length of Draco Malfoy's spine, and he grimaced.

No matter how he tore, pulled or heaved, his hand and his waist remained solidly locked in the grip of the doll like girl that had taken him hostage on the dance floor. She smiled serenely and batted the long lashes surrounding her wide blue eyes peering from behind her gold gilded mask. His free hand, the one that would have ordinarily sat on his partner's hip, beat against her cold hard skin to no avail. Instead, they moved expertly amongst the throng of people in the ballroom, all dancing to the same waltz, _one, _two, three, _one_, two, three...

Draco yanked his reddening hand again, causing pinpricks of blood to spot on his index and little fingers. "Hermione!" he shouted out again, his voice rasping in the dry air. "Harry!" He'd lost sight of them both minutes ago, but time had no meaning any more as the seconds dragged torturously on and on. Harry, he thought, had been pulled away by another cursed dancer like the one currently pushing Draco around, but it had all happened so fast he couldn't be entirely sure. But Hermione, Hermione he knew had been seized by a wraith, and had in all likeliness been reduced to-

No. He wouldn't think of her as dead, let alone beyond dead. He'd seen her struggle, it had jumped across the room with her before he and Harry were ensnared and he seen her fighting for her life. He couldn't let her down.

He twisted and turned as best he could, desperately searching through the masked faces with the vacant smiles for the one that belonged to Harry Potter. "Harry!" he yelled out again, but the string quartet were unnaturally loud, and even though he couldn't see a single mouth moving the sound of conversation was deafening. The women seemed to be on a unified mission to twirl their expansive skirts out as far as would allow whilst waving feathered fans as large as their heads. The men were puffing out enough cigar smoke they were threatening to engulf the entire room, and all in all Draco was finding he could ascertain frustratingly little about his current surroundings.

"Okay," he breathed, pushing fears about his companions to the back of his mind. If he was going to help them he had to get the Hell out of this waltz, and so he turned his attention back to his lifeless captor.

"Oi!" he shouted into her partly covered face. "I'm not dancing any more, you hear me?" He had had, after years of merciless tuition at Malfoy Manor, no trouble slotting into the correct step with the girl as she'd forced him around. It was the easiest way of keeping pace with her, however he now planted his feet stubbornly on the ground and pulled against her grasp. But he might as well have been arguing with a whirling teacup ride from the funfair, as the girl paid no attention to his halted feet whatsoever, proceeding instead to whip him back off the ground and stumbling into the next step. He lost his balance as his feet went and fell, causing the girl to dig her fingers into his ribs and yank his hand up so hard he was almost certain he'd sprained his wrist.

"OW!" he shouted at her in anger, scrabbling to get his feet moving again. She didn't even flinch, just continued to smile and stare lovingly at him with those big eyes of hers. "Get off me!" he snarled, pushing against her breastbone with no effect in the slightest. Changing tactics he twisted himself round and began prying at the fingers clutching his shirt just above his hip. If only he could worm his way free somehow.

"Draco!" yelled Harry, and Draco spun his head round so fast he threatened to give himself whiplash.

"Harry!" he bellowed as he caught a glimpse of the black haired boy being swung about by a tall girl in green. "Harry what do we-!"

But at that moment the music wound itself up in a perfect cadence, and all the couples parted to bow and curtsy. Draco stood dumbstruck as the girl he had been fighting against for the past five minutes relinquished her control over him, holding her skirt daintily as she curtsied then walked away. A new song began, this one slightly more upbeat, and the room was off again.

Draco panted and rubbed his bruises, confounded by what he'd just witnessed. Harry! he thought, and whirled around to search for the other boy. Black hair bobbed and weaved around the new set of dancers, and Draco rushed to meet his oncoming friend. "Harry what happened – did they let Hermione go, can you see her?"

Harry Potter finally managed to shove his way through a gaggle of young ladies whispering behind their blue feathery fans. "Draco!" he gasped. "Yours let you go too?" They backed hurriedly away from the crowd as best they could and stood with their heads' spinning near the buffet table.

"Yes," he said, scowling as Harry rubbed his equally bleeding hand. "I don't get it – why spin us round for a bit then just let us go?" He scanned the room as best he could. "Can you see Hermione?" he asked, trying to keep the panic from his voice. "That wraith-"

"Yeah I know," said Harry cutting him off. "But I don't think she's...y'know. I think it took her somewhere. Alive. I saw it at least twice before I lost sight of them and she was kicking and screaming like a trouper both times."

Draco gripped at the table beside him and scrabbled around for what little was left of his good old Malfoy composure. "I can't lose her," he managed though gritted teeth. Harry grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

"We're not losing her," he cried over the dim of the party. "This is my stupid fault for trying to find the fight before we were ready." Draco looked up at him and clenched his jaw.

"We told you to stop," he growled. The words were out of his mouth before he'd even thought, but it was true. He smacked Harry's hands away and thrust his face into his. "We told you it was a trick, we told you not to come in here, and now it's got her! It's got her and we might not get her BACK!" He lost it at the very end. His voice cracked and the anger disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced. Harry took his shoulders again and Draco felt himself shaking.

"Draco...I know, I'm so, so sorry. But I genuinely think she's okay – I think they want us, or me I guess, to follow her. I think they want to lure me into a trap or a fight or something, but I swear on my life we will rescue Hermione before any of that happens. And then I don't care after that, I just want to make this right."

Draco looked at his friend and took in a shaky breath. "You realise if you lose after that it won't really matter."

"That's why we'll get Hermione first. Then it won't matter, so long as I make it right with you both."

"You know," said Draco slowly. "I was hoping you'd say 'That's why I won't lose'."

"Oh," said Harry, dropping his hands to his sides. "Well, yeah that too."

"Shall we go rescue my girlfriend now?"

"That could be an idea," replied Harry, unsheathing his sword. They began moving towards the back of the hall, where the wraith had gone, and Draco pulled out his wand. "I swear," muttered Harry to him. "If any girl so much as two-steps in my direction she will lose her hands, her head and anything at all sprouting a feather."

Draco regretted lashing out at Harry, but the panic was churning through his guts at a frenzied rate. As a child he'd heard some of the things that went on in the Malfoy Manor dungeons; people screaming, calling for help, begging for mercy. He hadn't meant to hear it he knew, but like most things his father forbade he found his way eventually. Was that where Hermione was now, in someone's dungeon? Was she tied down, were they using magic or worse, how many of them were there? Was she scared? Draco felt his blood pressure plummet and his vision swirled in front of his eyes. He grabbed Harry's arm and they tripped to a halt.

Of course she was scared.

"We need to move faster," he grunted, and Harry being Harry just nodded, squeezed his shoulder, then set off at a sprint.

The back of the ball room only had one large doorway, however where the door should have been hung instead a heavy red velvet curtain. It didn't move with the warm scented breeze that eased through the rest of the room, swishing skirts and teasing candle flames. It just stood, from floor to door frame, inviting them to go through.

"It must be this way," breathed Harry as they regarded it for a moment, then simultaneously the two boys pushed the material aside.

They were blown through in an instant, their feet whipped off the floor by their own personal whirlwind that blurred their vision and did unkind things to the contents of Draco stomach. With a flourish they landed on the ground, arms flailing to get their balance, Harry whipping back Godric's sword so as to not impale Draco with it.

"What...?" murmured Draco, shaking his head to try and focus his eyes. The ballroom was gone, but the crowd was just as dense as before. They were on a packed city street, the night's sky littered with stars. There was a tang of smoke in the air, and a dirge of drum beats and whistles mingled in with music pumping out over a tannoy system. The people on closer inspection were all Asian looking, and dancing along in a sort of parade. Fireworks pierced the sky, dazzling the scene with shots of blue red and gold, the rockets hissing and banging to the cheers of the crowd. There were half a dozen or so people underneath a paper creation in the middle of the street, and if Draco squinted it could possibly have been a dragon. Red lanterns hung from every possible lamp post or awning, and large joss sticks ended in tendrils of spicy smoke, making his head dizzy.

"It's like...Chinese New Year or something," said Harry, then turned to face him. "We did something about this back at Muggle school."

"But why are we here!" Draco demanded, marching off down the street in the direction everyone else was moving. He spotted a bench and jumped on it, Harry following just behind, sheathing his sword. He darted his eyes frantically around the mass of people. "Where are we supposed to go, where's Hermione?"

On the precise moment he said her name, the speakers hanging from the lamp posts stopped blaring music and became a harrowing scream instead.

"_DRACO!"_

Draco spun around so fast he actually fell off of the bench. "Hermione!" he screamed back, but the music had recommenced and the people were carrying on celebrating as if nothing had happened. He scrambled to his feet and looked about, but Harry hauled him back up on the bench.

"Look!" he shouted, and pointed over Draco shoulder, down along the stream of party goers. A large screen, something which he thought was called a television, was mounted on the side of a building and showing a picture of a girl's face straining against a gag being tied around her mouth.

Draco felt a ripple of horror run through his body. "Go," he uttered hoarsely, and he and Harry jumped off the bench and started making their way as fast as they could towards the monitor. Obviously she wasn't there, but it was the best lead they had and he was going to grab it with both hands.

They sprinted along the pavement, darting either side of children with sparklers and middle aged men clapping out of time. "C'mon," said Harry, and made to push through the horde to the other side of the road where Hermione was shaking her head and screaming against her binds on the huge TV. But as soon as their trajectory changed left, the people were as unmovable as the girls dancing the waltz. The two boys bounced off the stream of bodies as if they were a wall, a moving barricade between them and their goal.

"No!" cried Draco in disbelief as he scrambled off the floor and tried again. No matter where he tried to squeeze or shove through, the people wouldn't budge, they just carried on singing and dancing, packed together like a tin of walking sardines. Draco laced his fingers through his hair, pulled it and yelled out at the pain and frustration. "I've lost her," he croaked, his arms falling to his sides. "I've lost her."

He wanted to sit on the floor, right there and then. But Harry Potter intervened. "What?" he snapped, abandoning the group of teenagers he was throwing himself against and thrust his hands at Draco's chest instead. "What did you just say?"

"I've lost her."

His face slowly formed the shape that suggested he was confused and possibly slightly angry. "So that's it, you're giving up?"

"I can't get through!" Draco retaliated, flinging his arm out at the parade beside them. "That's not even her – it's a Muggle thing where they show you pictures, she's not there, she could be anywhere!" He was aware of the tears pricking at his eyes, and shame washed over him, his impotency rooting him to the ground.

"I know what a TV is you moron!" Harry shouted back, jabbing his finger and Hermione's crying face. "Voldemort has her, and what needs to happen now is we find her and kick the crap out of him – got it?" Draco stared at him, his lips pressed together, his hands balled into fists.

"We don't know where she is," he said again, weakly. He tried to block out the din and work out the unbearable noise in his own head. He'd been desperate to get back to her...well since he'd met the damn girl. All he seemed to have been doing for the past few months was try, in one guise or another, to get back to the Mudblood with the bushy brown hair. In what kind of unlikely world had she become his guiding light, the only warmth in his sorry, wretched life? He looked up at her desperate face as Harry gawped at him.

"You just went mental at me because I put her in danger," he yelled, throwing his hands out in exasperation. "You love her, any idiot can see that! What the Hell are you doing giving up because some curse of a carnival won't let you through?"

Draco frowned, his eyes tracing patterns in the strewn confetti on the concrete. "I..." he began as fireworks exploded and voices cheered in an unknown language. "She's so amazing." Harry raised his eyebrows and turned his head towards the image of her face, her eyes closed and her shoulders shuddering.

"Yes," he said slowly, looking back at him. "And?"

"And...and I'm-"

"An idiot!" exploded Harry, but there was something kind about it. He seized his friend's shoulders, his eyes wide. "Because you seem to not realise how much she loves you too."

Draco stared at him. Was that what this had been about? Had he suddenly felt like an inadequate offering for this girl he...he loved. He did love her. And she loved him – could that be true?

"And," said Harry carefully, head nodding towards the crowd. "That the entirety of existence is in a spot of trouble. Think you might have not realised that too."

"Oh," said Draco with a nod, a fire flaring through his icy insides. "Yeah, that." He shook the tension from his hands and stamped his feet. The feeling was good, he was here, he was solid. "Okay – let's go be heroes."

xxx

Harry Potter ran between the swathes of people rushing towards him, swords and spears and bows waving in all directions, battle cries flying through the evening air. The command tower was up ahead, he could see the Gryffindor banners flying from it even though he was still a good few hundred feet away from it. It stood twice as high as most of the tents surrounding it, even the ones that had been converted into warehouses and fire stations.

The strange man, Alex, and been as good as his word on his directions. They'd taken him to this place, now Harry just prayed to whoever was listening that Sirius was there and they could get the Hell out of this crazy place.

The troops, if you could call them that (for Harry had never seen a more mismatched bunch in his life) were running towards some unknown threat that they had to face or the world was going to end. Or something, Harry hadn't followed that part so well. But every now and again a variety of monsters would jump out from somewhere and attack, howling and slashing the people in their way with talons or knives or razor-bladed tales. There was no mistaking it, this was a battlefield wherever you were standing.

Harry ducked as a cannon ball went flying overhead, but it didn't stop his feet from flying over the muddy grass, the tower never leaving his sight. As he ran, his wand free hand fumbled behind him and felt the rope again for reassurance. He was going to get him back, it would be okay, he wouldn't fail him again.

The tower was square at its base and it rose up several levels with a rickety looking staircase filling its insides. The outside was draped in cream muslin cloth which flitted in the breeze, exposing the interior to the world. The top level of the structure housed a platform, roofed with a pyramid of muslin and wooden poles. As Harry charged forward he began to make several figures out, looking down over the battle the was raging below their vantage point. Gasping for breath, he spotted a doorway at the base and dashed towards it. Without warning, as he reached the threshold, in invisible barrier struck, knocking him off his feet and back into the mud once.

"God damn it!" he bellowed, before hoisting himself from the muck and re-inspecting the tower. Nothing was attacking it, or coming anywhere near it for that matter. It must be protected all over, which made sense.

Harry backed up and looked up the twenty or so feet at the people standing there.

"SIRIUS!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. A black haired figure lent over the edge to look at him.

"Harry?" his godfather's voice came back. Relief, tangible, wonderful relief, spread through Harry's body.

"Sirius it's me!" he called up. "I've come to rescue you, I can't get in though." The head disappeared. Harry looked nervously about himself; there were people running in every direction, but did any of them care about him? Was there a beasty waiting in the wings to chomp on him the second his back was turned after making such a racket?

Someone was running down the stairway – no two people. Sirius swung down the last few steps and stopped just before the entrance. A second later another tall man in medieval gear landed behind him and eyed Harry wearily.

"Where did you go?" he asked suspiciously in an East London accent. "You legged it before all the action started – and where's Draco and Hermione?"

"Ah," said Harry, eager to explain. "That was the other Harry, no idea where he is I'm afraid. I'm the Harry that was here before, in the library." He looked directly at Sirius. "I'm here for my godfather."

Sirius Black cried out in jubilation. "I knew I could count on you!" he exclaimed, and stepped through the tower's protective barrier without even flinching.

"Sirius!" shouted the tall man, suddenly panicked. "Come back, what are you doing?" But Sirius ignored him as he swooped his godson off the ground and hugged him like his life depended on it.

"How?" he stammered, "how did you-" but the roar of some terrible weapon cut him short, and the two dove to the ground as machine gun fire tore through the air.

"King Arthur save us tonight!" cried the tall man, and jumped from the tower himself as several twisted looking creatures bounded over in their direction, followed by a group of US marines and Red Indians in hot pursuit. Harry peered out from underneath Sirius' arm to see the man pull a sword from its sheath that looked remarkably familiar to him. "Get back in the tower Sirius, I'll hold them off – and keep that boy under control!"

Sirius began to pull Harry up, but he shook his head and stepped away from him. "No!" he said happily. "Just hold onto me, I'll get us out of here right now – back to the real world!" Sirius looked at Harry, then over at the other man as he sliced through something with far too many legs.

The man then looked back at Sirius. "Well?" he asked, shoving aside a wolfy looking thing into a spidery looking thing. "What are you waiting for Black, hold onto him and get the Hell outta here!" Sirius' youthful face split into an enormous smile and the man smiled back and saluted with a flick of his wrist

"Let's go then."

Sirius grabbed Harry's hand as a shot rang through the air, so loud it felt like it made Harry's heart stop. He pulled the rope for the first tug as he looked at Sirius' face: it was splattered with blood. Tug two he frowned as Sirius shouted his name, but the gunshot had left a ringing in his ears and he couldn't hear him. It was on tug three he looked down.

They were pulled off their feet just like they'd activated a port key, colours rushed past Harry's face but all he could register was Sirius' vice like grip on his wrist. They flew, and Harry sank into the momentum, letting it take him wherever it chose. He'd gotten what he wanted, he didn't care anymore.

They landed on the stone floor of the auditorium with an unceremonious thud, and Harry rolled off his godfather, his breath ragged, his fingers gripping onto Sirius' shirt for fear of losing him again. He was aware of several bodies leaping into action around him, but he was honestly too tired to look at them. He just kept his blurry vision on the old and cracked ceiling, the edge of the veil occasionally fluttering into view. That's when he heard the scream.

He wearily ordered his limbs to move, to push himself off the ground and find out what was wrong. But there was a cold sensation spreading through his chest, and it wasn't letting him do what he wanted. Then he remembered; the blood. He blinked and attempted to focus his eyes on the faces surrounding him, his ears on the voices urgently calling his name.

He felt Sirius heave him into his arms. "Harry!" he cried, his face swimming into view. "Harry it's okay, we'll get help." Once again, Harry told himself to look down, and this time he looked properly.

Blood was seeping at a terrific rate through his shirt, it was smearing all over the ground and Sirius' hands were covered in it. It was his blood. He'd been shot.

He frowned, and looked up at Hermione shrieking and Ron tried to comfort her. Neville Longbottom was by his feet, and Luna Lovegood had taken his other hand. Kingsley Shacklebolt, their Phoenix friend who'd got them inside, was crouched next to Luna, his wand flicking over the wound. Harry felt like it should hurt more, but all he could feel was the cold.

"Harry, it's okay, we'll fix it, don't worry-" but Sirius' voice died with a single shake of Kingsley's head.

"It's cursed," he whispered. Hermione froze her sobs, then shuddered jerkily to her knees, and crawled over to where Harry lay.

"Oh Harry," she breathed, as Ron dove to her side, his face drained of all colour. "Harry don't go."

"Harry mate, it's okay," tried Ron desperately, even though he knew it wasn't.

"Don't worry Harry, it'll all be fine," said Neville joining in.

"Harry," said Luna softly. "Harry I think you're dying. Don't be scared."

This bought a fresh sob from Hermione, but Harry found himself smiling. He wasn't sure that was a normal reaction, but he realised he was using the last of his strength to do it. He muttered something as he groped for a hold on Sirius' clothes again. "Harry I'm so sorry," choked his godfather, but Harry just muttered again. "What?" he gasped, tears running down his face. "Harry what did you say?"

"It's okay," said Harry, pushing with all he could to get the words out. "It's okay. I...I found you." He gave up on talking, and let his eyes flutter closed as his efforts when back to smiling. It really was okay – he had sworn to himself he would rescue Sirius from that place, that place where he'd put him all those months ago, and he had done it.

"It's okay," he whispered again.

And then, for the final time, Harry Potter's world went black.


End file.
